Till We Reach That Day
by whydoyouneedtoknow
Summary: Complete. AU sequel of A Little Slice of Heaven. Harry grew up with the Dursleys, but with a black dog living down the street. Draco likes to be called Ray and has a wolf named Zelda. And Remus and his wife have been missing for twelve years.
1. Things Like This Can't Happen

(Standard disclaimers apply, I don't own anything you recognize from the works of J.K. Rowling, whom I would worship if it wasn't for that pesky thing called the First Commandment... as it is, I'll just be haunting the bookstore in nine days...

Super-angst warning. This is going to be dark, mysterious, and sad. But it will have some happy and some funny in it, like all my stuff. So... here we go!)

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Chapter 1: Things Like This Can't Happen

Halloween. A night of magic. A night of mystery.

Or, if your name happened to be Sirius Black, a night to go out on the town with three of your best friends.

"A toast," he proposed, holding up his glass. "To good friends and good times."

"Here, here," answered the rest of the company, and toasted this sentiment in sparkling pumpkin juice, the drink of choice for tonight. James had ordered the drinks, and winked at Sirius as he did, so Sirius didn't ask why they weren't having anything alcoholic or complain about it as he normally might. He trusted James. A man had to trust his partner, whether it was in the Auror program (one year to go, he reminded himself), in Quidditch, or in life.

He looked over at his wife, the diamonds in her ears and at her throat sparkling as she laughed at some quip of James'. It still staggered him that such a beautiful, talented, intelligent, and witty woman should have thrown away her life on him.

"Well, someone has to take care of you," she'd said, smiling at his shock when she said yes to his half-articulated proposal, which he'd made the night he left Hogwarts. She'd still had another year to go, and they and James and Lily made a date of it – they'd all be married the following summer. And they were, on two successive days, so that they could serve in one another's wedding parties.

_And that was more than a year ago. I've been married for more than a year. _

He rubbed the wide gold band on his left hand. _It still shakes me up sometimes. _

He wished their other four closest friends could be present, but Remus, smiling politely, had declared Halloween "Werewolves' Night Out, so we can go howling at the moon and remember it the next morning."

So he and his wife Danger, and Peter Pettigrew and his wife Evanie (the other half of the plural _werewolves_, she'd been bitten the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts, Peter's seventh), were off somewhere else having a fine old time, and would probably come home in the morning only not hung over because they were still drunk...

_But no. That's not Remus' idea of a good time. Peter might get drunk tonight, but Evanie'll take care of him. It's what she does best. _

Sirius would know, intimately, how Remus and Danger felt in the morning. When the Lupins had returned from their honeymoon in July, Remus had returned to his apprenticeship at the Department of Mysteries, and the couple had moved into what had been, until then, Remus' bachelor digs – the other half of the duplex that Sirius and Aletha owned. Danger had soon taken over housekeeping and cooking duties for both couples, leaving Aletha free to pursue her Healer's apprenticeship.

_Because we're going to need Healers. Very much. _

Lord Voldemort, generally considered the Darkest wizard to arise in the past hundred years, was gaining strength with each passing day. His followers, the Death Eaters, committed atrocities wherever they pleased, and only rarely could Aurors arrive in time to arrest the perpetrators or save their victims.

_But why am I thinking about nasty things like that tonight? Tonight is a time for fun. A time for enjoying ourselves. _

_Time enough to think about the war tomorrow. _

He turned his attention back to the conversation at the table, which had turned into a regular game of "Do you remember".

"Do you remember how Remus and Danger finally got together?" Aletha was asking as Sirius tuned back in.

"Will I ever forget it?" James laughed. "I think I deserve some credit for that. My stupidity being what made it possible."

The stupidity James was referring to was his decision that he and Sirius, in their Animagus forms, could control not one but two werewolves, and his subsequent instruction to Peter to let them out of the Shrieking Shack.

"Everything was going so well," said Sirius. "We all made it into the Forest, and I remember thinking, 'There, we'll be fine now. No one's going to be out here in the middle of the night.'"

"And then Moony started sniffing around," James picked it back up. "And he took off running, obviously trailing something, and Selene followed him before we could stop her – and I was petrified that they'd found a human..."

"Which they had," said Sirius. "But we didn't know it yet."

"Because when we caught up with them, they were playing with something. Another animal. And when they stopped, we saw it was a wolf." James' eyes were far away, as if he were seeing the tableau of the three wolves again. "But this one was a true wolf, not a were. Straight tail, pointed snout, the whole bit. And female."

"I was so relieved that I didn't even think it was unusual when she walked right up to us and smacked each of us with her paw," Sirius recalled. "She sent Wormtail flying. And then she herded us all back to the Shack, growling and snapping if we tried to move out of line. I don't think it ever occurred to us that if we ganged up, we could take her."

"It wouldn't have been smart," said James. "We would have had to disable her, and that takes time, and Moony and Selene could have gotten away by then. So we just went where she told us to."

"We probably should have suspected when she shoved Peter under the Willow with her nose," said Sirius, chuckling. "But we were just too dense to figure it out. We went back in and stayed there the rest of the night."

"Moony whined a lot when she left," said James. "And he spent the rest of the night sitting at the end of the tunnel, looking out with the saddest eyes I've ever seen on him. He'd howl every now and then, but not a hunting howl – more like he was calling someone. We figured he just wanted her to come back so he had another friend."

Sirius nodded. "And then, when we got back to the common room that morning..."

"You thought you were home free," said Aletha with a grin. "And there was Danger, waiting for you."

"And she just tore you apart," said Lily. "Ranting on about how could you be so irresponsible, didn't you know how badly Remus and Evanie would take it if anything happened, it would have been all your fault if someone had gotten hurt or killed, on and on, and none of the three of you thought to ask the pertinent question until she was done."

"The pertinent question being, of course, how did she know it was us?" said James.

"Or, more accurately, how did she know about Moony?" supplemented Sirius.

"And when you finally did ask..." Aletha loved this story, Sirius knew.

"She looked at us as if we were insane and said, 'Well, isn't it _obvious?_'" Sirius imitated Danger's cutting tones. "'After all, _you_ figured it out.'"

"And while you were all recovering from the mortal wounds to your egos..." prompted Lily once the laughter had died down.

"She took off," said James. "Out the portrait hole and gone. And she came back a couple of hours later – and she wasn't alone."

Sirius smiled at the memory. "I'd never seen Moony look like that. He'd barely smiled at all since his mum died over the summer, and here he was, beaming, and holding her hand, and acting like he'd protect her from anything."

"And _then_ she saw fit to tell us that she'd been the wolf in the Forest, that she'd been studying to be an Animagus for two years, and that she thought we were all idiots." James looked thoughtful. "You know, if we'd really tried, we probably could have figured most of that out on our own."

"That was an exciting week," said Lily. "Because the next day was the day you saved Snape's life. Remember that?"

"Not willingly," said James with a grimace. "There are times I wish I'd let him fall, the slimy git."

Sirius winced. He had been livening up a dull Astronomy lesson by throwing wadded-up bits of parchment at Snape. He certainly wouldn't have done it if he'd known how close Snape was to the edge of the tower. Nor if he'd known Snape would jump up to try to get away and lose his balance on the snow-wet stone. James had seen what was happening and pulled Snape to safety just in time.

_But that's ancient history now. Nothing happened, everyone's all right, everyone's alive. _

"So, what's the big secret you two are keeping from us?" Aletha asked James and Lily. "You've been giggling every time you look at each other."

"I haven't been giggling," protested James.

"Oh, yes, you have."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have. But that doesn't matter. What is it?"

"Yeah, spill, Prongs," said Sirius. "What's up with the drinks?"

"Well..." James looked mysterious. "Let's just say there's a reason why one of us shouldn't have any alcohol for a while now."

Aletha gasped. "No."

Lily nodded, breaking into a huge smile. "Yes."

"Oh my Lord! When?"

"July."

"July?" said Sirius, totally confused. "July what?"

Everyone laughed.

"What am I missing here?"

"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" asked Aletha.

"We'll tell him," said James. "Darling?"

Lily looked appraisingly at Sirius. "Yes, I'd say you'll do for a godfather," she said.

"Godfather?" Suddenly, Sirius caught on. "You're – you're not..."

"Yes, I am." Lily's face was quietly beatific. "We're going to have a baby."

Sirius grinned. "Well, congratulations to both of you," he said, "and I have just one thing to say to you."

"What's that?" asked James.

"Better you than me."

"Well!" Aletha bridled in mock indignation. "I know _one_ man who'll be sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"Oh, Letha, don't be that way. James didn't do anything that bad."

Everyone was laughing at this when a waiter came over to their table. "Mr. James Potter?" he said, offering a folded piece of parchment to James.

"Yes, that's me." James took it.

"And Mr. Sirius Black?" the waiter persisted, extending another one to him.

Sirius nodded and accepted it, looking it over. It was addressed to him in a blotchy, familiar handwriting, and he groaned mentally. _Oh, bloody hell, not a summons tonight..._

The contents were as terse as he'd come to expect from Alastor Moody.

_Attack on restaurant in Bath. Several dead, several more missing. Come to Ministry right away._

"You been called in too?" asked James.

"Yeah. Sorry, ladies, but duty calls." Sirius got up and kissed Aletha goodbye. "See you at home, love."

"You take care of yourself," James told Lily, hugging her and caressing her stomach tenderly. "And our baby."

"Don't worry, James, I'll be fine. You just go save the world."

"Blast some Death Eaters for me," said Aletha, waving as the two men left. "Goodbye."

"So," said Sirius to James as they walked to the restaurant's public fireplace. "You're going to be a dad, huh?"

"Yep."

"You ready?"

"Nope."

They were at the Floo now, and James went first, taking the Floo powder he carried everywhere from his pocket and giving Sirius a pinch, then throwing in his own and calling out "The Ministry of Magic!"

Sirius followed him closely, and was soon brushing soot off his cloak in the Atrium, then trotting towards the lifts with James beside him. They took the lift to Level Two and were met by Alastor Moody and two or three other Aurors Sirius knew only by sight. "Good," grunted Moody. "Come on, you two, need to talk to you alone. Feather business."

Sirius stiffened, suddenly alert. "Feather business" was code for something involving the Order of the Phoenix. A glance at James showed his partner tensing up a bit as well.

Moody ushered them into his own office, shut the door, and tersely cast a series of spells to safeguard the room against spying. "Sit down, you two," he said, taking a seat behind his desk.

Sirius and James obediently sat, Sirius starting to get worried.

"We responded to the call too late, as usual. Death Eaters already gone, the owner of the restaurant – Muggleborn – dead, some of the waiters and customers too, Dark Mark over the place. But all the eyewitnesses insisted that the killing wasn't what they were really there for." Moody shuffled some parchments on his desk. "They wanted prisoners. And they got them. Four of them."

The bottom of Sirius' chest seemed to have vanished, his heart and stomach were falling through the floor. James' knuckles were white on the arms of his chair.

* * *

Aletha heard the Floo go off in her music room from where she was relaxing in the front room with a glass of wine. She got up to go greet Sirius. 

"Well, since you seemed to be so opposed to the idea, I checked just to be certain, and I'm not pregnant," she said flippantly, coming into the room. "But it is likely going to happen sometime, so you'd better get used to the..."

She stopped. Sirius was sitting on the couch, his face in his hands, his shoulders slumped in a way she had never seen before, not even when Gryffindor lost a Quidditch match or the Marauders got caught and disciplined for a prank.

"What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling in front of him. "Sirius, come on, what is it?"

He lifted his head and looked at her. Aletha stared. His eyes were bleak as a cloudy day, and brimming with tears. Sirius never cried.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said gently, putting her hand on his arm.

"Come – sit–" Awkwardly, Sirius pulled her up to the couch beside him, holding her against him a little more tightly than was really comfortable, but she didn't protest or pull away.

"Tell me," she said again.

Sirius took a deep, shaky breath. "They're gone."

"Gone? Who? What do you mean?"

"Taken. Death Eaters took them."

Aletha's spine chilled. Injury was one thing, death another, but to be captured by people who enjoyed inflicting humiliation and pain, and who considered her and her friends subhuman, was the worst thing she could imagine happening. And Sirius had said "they", as in more than one.

"Who?" she asked again, dreading the answer. "How many?"

"Four." Sirius' voice was dead, toneless and so quiet she had to strain to hear it. "Peter and Evanie. And Remus and Danger."

The air in the room was suddenly heavier, pressing in on her, making her gasp for breath. She became aware that she was shaking her head. "No. No, it isn't possible. It isn't. It – things like this can't happen. They can't. Things like this can't happen to us."

She had known Danger most of her life. There had been jokes, when they were young, about them being joined at the hip. She had given Gertrude Granger the nickname that had stuck so well almost no one recalled her real one.

She'd always liked Remus better than the other boys. He wasn't as brash as James or Sirius, or as timid as Peter. Rather, he was quietly polite and deferent, while not hesitating to put forth his opinion if it was needed, and always willing to help a friend.

She'd watched Evanie, who had been a frumpy and shy girl in Danger's year, and Peter, who'd never put himself forward or stood up to James' or Sirius' bullying, transform each other from children into adults, and adults in love.

They couldn't, they just _couldn't_ be gone.

"This – this is a joke, isn't it? This is one of your jokes. Well, it's not very funny. You shouldn't scare me like that." Her voice was gaining confidence, gaining momentum. She could make it be true, she could make it all one of Sirius' stupid jokes, and Remus and Danger would be home in the morning, Peter and Evanie coming over in the afternoon for tea, and everything would be all right...

"Aletha, you have no idea how much I wish this were a joke."

The sound of Sirius' voice, choked and thick with tears, shattered the illusion she'd been trying to build. The room was colder than it ought to be, she thought distantly, colder and darker, and it was shaking oddly, and becoming blurred...

_Little Evanie, all grown up on her wedding day. Helping to dress her hair and arrange her bouquet. The look on Peter's face as he watched her come up the aisle, obviously the most beautiful, the only thing in his world. The toast he made to her at the reception – pure poetry, from the boy who could never put two words together without stammering..._

_Coming home, tired and worn, from a hard day at the hospital and finding dinner already prepared and Danger waiting with a cup of tea and a listening ear. Remus saying something in that polite way of his, so level that it took everyone a few seconds to recognize how improper and funny it was. Watching them dance together at their wedding, eyes locked and feet moving in unison, as if one mind moved them instead of two..._

She didn't remember when she'd started crying. Perhaps she had never started, but had always been crying. This kind of pain certainly seemed to make that possible.

_They'll hurt them. They'll hurt them and make the others watch. Or they'll use Imperius and make them hurt the others themselves..._

It was worse, being a Healer-trainee. She saw pain and suffering every day. She knew pain intimately, in all its forms, and she knew that the body's tolerance for pain – how much it could take before it shut down in self-defense – was infinitely, infinitely more than that of the mind and soul inhabiting the body.

And then the worst thing of all came to her.

_Full moon is in four days._

She hadn't thought she could cry any harder.

She and Sirius held each other, both of them sobbing brokenly, wishing what she had never thought she'd wish.

_I hope they're dead. I hope they were killed trying to escape, or found some way to end it themselves. _

Because at this point, death was probably the best thing that could happen to them.

* * *

(A/N: No, I don't listen to you at all. I'm doing what the least number of people voted for! Well, not really. The least number, zero, voted for me to go on hiatus. And I don't want to do that. So I'm going to torture you all a little. Yes, I'll eventually write that fluff. I suppose. But this is what's sitting in my brain right now, begging to be written. So this is what gets written. And yes, it's a horrible thing to start right before I go on break for HBP... but that's me, your resident horrible... please remember to review! I need review love! Oh yes, and hugs to anyone who can tell me the origin of the title!) 


	2. Returner

(A/N: BYOT warning... tell you what, why don't we make that permanent for this story?)

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Chapter 2: Returner 

The next day, if anything, was worse.

The Blacks had worn themselves out crying and eventually helped each other numbly up the stairs to bed. Aletha knew she was wishing that she would wake up in the morning and find it had all been a dream, and when she saw the answering wish in Sirius' eyes, it was all she could do to stand up and go into the bathroom to start her daily routine.

The house seemed echoingly, achingly empty without the noises of Remus and Danger on the other side. Sirius tried to toast some of the scones Danger had made yesterday morning and burned them, but both Blacks ate them anyway, not willing to waste anything their friend had done for them.

_Yesterday morning. It seems like so much longer ago than that. _

Could it possibly be less than twenty-four hours since she'd last seen Remus' quiet smile, or heard Danger's sparkling laugh?

And could it be possible she'd never see them again?

She kissed Sirius goodbye with a new urgency, looking at his face for a long moment afterwards, feeling him doing the same.

_When someone you love vanishes, everyone else you have is suddenly doubly precious. _

Her attitude towards her work during the day fluctuated wildly. At one moment, she would feel as if she could save her friends, end the war, make everything right in the world if she could just cure this case of dragon pox or help to heal this infected bite. At another, nothing seemed to matter. Four of her best friends in the world were gone – but not quite gone. They hovered tantalizingly out of reach, their return still just within the realm of possibility.

_Hope is one of the worst torments ever invented. _

And when she wasn't hoping for them, she was frightened for them, as her mind invented gruesome possibilities for what could be happening to them. Everything she saw that had happened accidentally, she imagined being done deliberately to the Lupins and the Pettigrews.

By the end of the day, she was literally shaking, and wanted nothing more than to go home, and at the same time nothing less, since home would remind her even more of the missing links in her life.

She was just entering the lobby when she saw a familiar face. Sirius was sitting in one of the chairs there, obviously waiting for her. She tried to smile at him, but knew it failed miserably, and his returning expression was as false and sad as her own had been. Slowly, he shook his head.

_Nothing. No news. They haven't heard anything or found out anything. _

She tried to smile again, to let him know she was grateful, but this expression flopped even worse than her first attempt. He was getting up now, coming across to her, and she wanted to fall into his arms, but settled (in public) for a discreet embrace.

"There's something we have to do," he said quietly in her ear.

She pulled away slightly to look at him. "What?"

Sirius' eyes were alive again, but filled with pain. "Their parents," he said. "We have to tell them."

_Their parents..._

"Just Remus' dad and the Grangers," said Sirius quickly. "James and Lily are doing Peter's mum and the Meads."

_Why us,_ Aletha wanted to wail. _Why us, can't someone else do it?_

But she knew this kind of news would be best carried by a friend, someone the parents knew.

Still, she hated herself for what she was about to do. The Grangers had been like parents to her as a little girl, and again over the past two years, after her mother's (to her) unexpected death and her father's disappearing act. How could she hurt them like this?

_Because not telling them would hurt them more. _

So she and Sirius Flooed directly from St. Mungo's to number seventeen, Oxman Road, Cold Crossing, Surrey. John Lupin came into the living room to greet them.

John was a physically powerful man; Remus favored his more delicate Muggle mother in that respect, besides being debilitated by his monthly transformations. He spoke little and deliberately, but he wasn't stupid – Remus got his intelligence and shrewdness from both sides of the family.

John proved that within the first few seconds of their visit. "What's happened?" was his quiet and somber greeting, as he advanced to shake hands with them. "Is he hurt, dead, or captured?"

_Is that supposed to make it easier?_

"Captured," said Aletha, since Sirius was still staring at the older wizard in surprise. "Last night, in Bath. With Danger, and Peter and Evanie." John knew the other Marauders well, from their visits to Remus over the holidays, and he had met all their wives at least a few times.

"Taken alive?"

"Yes, sir," said Sirius.

"A-purpose?"

"They think so."

John stared past them for a moment, into the fire in the fireplace, still burning from their arrival. "I knew it had to come," he said softly. "When he was bitten, I knew it would be him. I hadn't thought it would be direct, though. That's not in his favor. He would have done better to influence and instruct..."

Aletha had the oddest feeling that the man had forgotten she and Sirius existed, that he was talking to someone only he could see. After a moment, he shook his head and brought his focus back to them. "Thank you for bringing the news yourselves," he said gravely. "Have you told her parents yet?"

"No, sir," said Aletha. "We're on our way there now."

John nodded. "Tell them gently," he recommended. "She's everything to them."

Aletha bit back a savage comment – _as if I didn't know – _and merely nodded in return.

The Grangers had set aside a small room in their home for Remus and Danger, and their friends, to use as an Apparition point. Aletha thought of that room now, imagined the bright, straight line connecting her feet and it, and _pushed_, propelling herself through the world to that place.

She felt rather than heard the loud crack as she Apparated in. The sound Sirius made an instant later literally hurt her eardrums.

"Well, it's about time," called a voice from upstairs. Rose, Danger's mum. "I've been waiting for _hours_ to hear how that nice little date of yours went last night!"

"Now, Rose, don't fluster the girl." David, her dad, and his voice sounded closer – the kitchen, maybe. "Not with Remus right beside her – I distinctly heard two..."

"It's us," called Aletha, opening the door, unable to listen to the Grangers teasing, as they thought, their daughter any longer. "It's Sirius and Letha."

"So it is." Rose appeared on the stairs, looking surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Sirius, stepping out of the room (really more of a cupboard) and giving Rose a respectful bow. "I'm afraid so."

"Oh dear." Rose came all the way down the stairs and into the hall with them, looking anxiously from one face to another. "Is – has something happened to my girl?"

"We should probably just tell you all at once," said Aletha, hating herself as she said it. "Instead of dragging it out."

"A good idea. In the kitchen, then?"

They preceded Rose down the hall and took seats at the kitchen table at her wave. David set the plate he was wiping in the dish drainer and sat down with them, and Rose took the last place, reaching, unconsciously it seemed, for her husband's hand, and finding it already halfway there.

_Remus and Danger could have looked like that. Did look like that, some days. As if they could read each other's minds. _What she had to do was tearing Aletha up inside, it hurt so much the pain was physical, she couldn't do it, not this...

Sirius' gentle squeeze on her arm brought her back to the present for the moment. "There was a Death Eater attack on a restaurant in Bath last night," he said to the Grangers. "Danger and Remus were taken prisoner, along with Peter and Evanie Pettigrew. As far as anyone knows, they could still be alive."

Rose's face shot through horror into hope for one moment, then shut down again. "She would have been better dead," she said softly. "They would all have been. Wouldn't they?"

"We don't know," Aletha began, hoping to take a little of the pressure off Sirius, her wonderful Sirius, who had relieved her of a duty she couldn't possibly have performed.

"Don't lie, Letha," said David sharply. "We've known each other too long, don't lie to us. Tell us straight. What will they do to her?"

Everything she knew, and everything she had imagined, raced through Aletha's mind. She opened her mouth to answer, but Sirius once again cut her off. "You don't want to know," he said flatly. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Of course we want to know!" said Rose hotly. "We're her parents! We deserve to know!"

"If you don't tell us, we'll imagine all kinds of horrors," added David. "The truth is always better."

Sirius shook his head. "Not this time." His tone brooked no argument, no disagreement. "I've seen some of it. Heard stories of more. Please forgive me for this, but you're Muggles. You have no idea what magic can be made to do, in the hands of people who don't care about life and like causing pain. Trust me. Whatever you can imagine, the truth is worse."

The silence was broken only by Rose's dry, racking sobs, and David's ragged breathing as he stared balefully at the tabletop.

* * *

Another day passed in a blur of work and pain, Aletha working mechanically, then rushing off to her one private place, a stall in the women's bathroom, to sob for a few seconds before drying her eyes and returning to work. She had never been so thankful that it was Friday. 

Sirius came home a few minutes after she did, with once again nothing to report. "We keep getting leads," he told her over the tasteless dinner, her hopeless best attempts at cooking. "And they keep drying up. Every one of them dries up midstream. I almost think they're planted, so Voldemort can laugh at us trying to find them..."

"Why them?" asked Aletha, voicing a concern that had been on her mind almost the entire time she'd known. "Why would the Death Eaters go to all that trouble to take them alive?"

"They're Order members," said Sirius heavily. "He's trying to demoralize us."

"So you don't think their being werewolves has anything to do with it?"

"Letha, how would he even know? The Registry Office's records are sealed, and unless Voldemort has someone very high up in the Ministry, there's no way he could have access to them. And think about it. Who knows? You and me, James and Lily, Peter and Danger, Dumbledore and McGonagall. Who on that list would have told Voldemort that Remus Lupin and Evanie Pettigrew were werewolves?"

"Stop that!" Aletha was on her feet, suddenly blazingly angry. "Stop talking about them as if they're dead!"

"I hope they are!" Sirius was on his feet as well. "And don't lie – so do you! You want them to be dead, or you should!"

"No, I don't want them to be dead! I want them to be rescued!"

"Oh, right," Sirius sneered, suddenly looking more like his brother Regulus than usual. "You want us to go find out where they're being held, waltz in there and liberate them, and waltz back out. All without losing anyone else. _Dammit, woman, what do you think we're trying to do?_"

"DON'T SHOUT AT ME!" Aletha screamed back at him. "THIS ISN'T ANY EASIER ON ME, YOU KNOW!"

"OH, LIKE HELL IT'S NOT! YOU'RE NOT THE ONE HAVING TO FOLLOW UP ON THESE LEADS, KNOWING THAT EVERY BAD ONE IS ANOTHER HOUR OF HELL YOU'RE LETTING THEM SUFFER THROUGH!"

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.

"You know what's the worst?" asked Aletha finally.

"No. What?"

"I keep expecting Danger to bang on the wall and tell us to keep it down."

Sirius exhaled shakily, then cracked a smile, beginning to laugh and cry at the same time, and then Aletha was doing the same. They stumbled into the music room together and sat down on the floor, holding each other, apologizing half-incoherently, over and over, insane laughter fighting for equal time with their sobs.

"I don't want them to be dead," mumbled Sirius into Aletha's hair some indefinite time later. "But if it's that or them alive and being tortured..."

"I know." Aletha pressed herself against him, not sure whether she was giving or taking comfort. "I know."

* * *

"Sirius! Letha! Wake up!" 

Aletha blinked. She was on something much harder than her bed, and someone was calling her name...

_We must have fallen asleep on the floor. _

"WAKE UP!" shouted the voice, which she suddenly identified.

_James!_

She sat up quickly and looked at the fireplace. James' head was sitting in it, and his expression made her heart leap.

_He looks... happy!_

"What's happened?" she asked quickly, shaking Sirius. "Good news?"

"Yes. In a way. Yes." James' hazel eyes fixed on Sirius, who was now awake. "We need you in right away, Padfoot. And you too, Letha, if you can come."

"It's Saturday, of course I can come – now _what is it?_"

James smiled. "It's Wormtail. He's come back."

Sirius sat up suddenly. "Is he all right?"

"Cut and bruised, tired out, but that seems to be the worst of it – we'd like you to check him over, Letha, to make sure we haven't missed anything, since he doesn't need a stranger poking at him right now."

Aletha nodded eagerly, then realized what James was saying implicitly. "He was alone?"

James' smile faltered. "Yes. Alone."

"Has he said anything?" asked Sirius urgently, getting to his feet. "About the others?"

"Not yet, we haven't asked him – he's worn out, and we don't want to push him too hard before we know if he's all right – can you come right away?"

"Of course," said Aletha, accepting Sirius' hand to pull her up. "As soon as you get out of the fire."

James winked. "DMLE infirmary," he said, and vanished.

Aletha went first, Sirius right behind her. James was waiting on the other side of the fire, and led them quickly to the screened-off bed where Lily was already sitting with her hand in that of an exhausted-looking Peter Pettigrew. He found strength to smile at Aletha and Sirius as they came around the screen, though, and Aletha's examination found nothing terribly wrong with him.

"You should be able to answer questions," she said to him. "But if these bullies start making you feel too tired, just tell them to bugger off, and they have to do it. Healer's orders." She fixed first James, then Sirius, with a glare. "Got it?"

"Got it, ma'am," said the two in unison, saluting her.

Lily had fetched Peter a drink of water. He sipped on it in between answering questions. Aletha noticed, too, that although Peter's clothes were very ragged, he was clean, and suspected Lily's light touch with Cleaning Charms might be responsible.

The story was drearily like what they had all suspected. Death Eaters had Apparated inside the restaurant, apparently having scoped the place out beforehand, since eight of them had appeared encircling the table where the four friends were sitting, and had disarmed and bound them all before they could react. They had been Portkeyed away to somewhere damp and dark, with a stone floor and the sound of dripping water nearby.

Masked figures had come for them, taking Evanie away first, then Peter. He had no idea where she'd been taken, or what had happened to her, and Aletha had to halt that line of questioning as too traumatic at the present moment. Peter himself had been taken to another room, unbound, and left alone in the dark. And then he'd heard a noise.

"Snakes," he said with an effort. Lily put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Lots of snakes."

"How did they know?" asked Sirius. Peter had always feared snakes, even before he knew his Animagus form was one of their favorite snacks.

"Probably just a lucky guess," said James. "Go on, Wormtail."

"That was what saved my life," said Peter, smiling weakly. "Being able to turn into Wormtail. One of them, a big one, tried to crush me. I transformed and got away before it could figure out where I'd gone. And then I just ran..." He looked miserable. "I know I should have stayed and tried to help them, but I was so scared, all I could think of was getting away... not even Evanie..."

"You did the best thing you could have," said James quickly. "What could you have done? One man, alone, without even a wand?"

"Now we know they're alive," said Sirius. "Or they were, as of that night. Now the big question. Where were you?"

Peter shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I just ran, I wasn't really thinking. I don't remember almost anything of the next two days. Just running, and staying away from predators, and finding food anywhere I could. I knew I had to get somewhere, but I wasn't really thinking as a human at all. My next actual memory is turning back in an alley near here and scaring some poor old Muggle bum."

Sirius barked out a quick laugh. "Fine. We've at least got the time differential. Wherever you were, it was far enough away that it took you two days to get back here in rat form. And maybe we can do something with tracing spells, or a scry or something..."

Aletha tuned out as James and Sirius began to discuss technical details. A small part of the weight on her heart had been lifted, but others had come to replace it. She had hoped, secretly, that some of her friends had been killed trying to escape, but Peter's story made that unlikely.

_And snakes aren't exactly something most people have lying around. They did their homework about Peter. It's more than likely they did it on the others too..._

And now she was frightened. Because she knew exactly what each of the others feared most.

_Danger's afraid of seeing Remus hurt people, or kill them, and not being able to help him. And of course, Remus and Evanie have the same fear. Wouldn't anyone be afraid of killing people they love, people they care deeply about, without being able to help themselves?_

And there would be an opportunity for all three of those fears to be fulfilled the very next night.

* * *

But as far as anyone fighting against the Dark knew, nothing happened that next night. The Order of the Phoenix had been prepared for an attack on their headquarters – although its exact location was hidden by a Fidelius Charm, any one of the three might have broken under torture and revealed the general location, and the two werewolves, being members of the Order, would be able to find the house themselves. And werewolves often went after familiar scents more savagely than after unfamiliar ones... 

But nothing happened. There were no reports of any unusual werewolf activity anywhere in England, and all the best efforts of the Aurors turned up nothing from Peter's journey. James and Sirius, in particular, worked to exhaustion for a week and a half after Peter's return. Finally, Lily and Aletha invaded the DMLE, each Stunned her own husband, and hauled him home for some much-needed rest and food.

"You'll do them no good by killing yourself," said Aletha severely to Sirius when he woke up.

Another two weeks passed, and another full moon. The night afterwards, the Dark Mark hovered over a house in Surrey. One Death Eater was dead, killed by a blow to the head from the kitchen cabinet he lay below, and one on the floor groaning, too badly burned to move, when the Aurors arrived. John Lupin lay unmoving in the corner of his kitchen, his wand several feet away.

"Definitely the Killing Curse," reported Andromeda Tonks after the examination. "But they probably meant to make you think a werewolf had done it. Look what this one was carrying." She handed James a large replica of a long-clawed paw.

John's funeral was the next week. Many of his Muggle neighbors attended, as did his son's friends. He was buried next to his wife, Katherine, who had died in a fire a few years before.

The Death Eater recovered, but told interrogators nothing beyond a name, Sebastian Davis. He was placed in Azkaban after a quick trial.

Christmas came, but no one felt like celebrating. Peter was wan and seldom seen, coming to Order meetings and doing whatever anyone needed of him, then disappearing again. Aletha wondered if he was trying to comfort Evanie's parents, and if it was working, or if they were asking themselves, "Why him and not her?"

Peter certainly seemed to be asking himself that question. His mother complained that he was never home anymore. With the woman's well-known shrewish temper, Aletha didn't blame him.

After the passing of the third full moon since the disappearances, in January, even Sirius had to admit that it was unlikely they would find anything. Remus, Danger, and Evanie were in all probability, and everyone secretly hoped, long dead. Still, it seemed wrong to let them simply fade from everyone's thoughts. The war had stolen them, but it shouldn't steal their memories.

And so a memorial service was planned. On 31 January, the Order of the Phoenix gathered at their headquarters to mourn three fallen comrades. Enlarged photographs of Remus and Danger dominated one long table, with a large piece of parchment and several quills lying there, for people to write messages to them. Evanie had her own, smaller, table at the other end of the room. Peter spent a long time there, and charmed his message to be invisible to everyone else when he was done.

Favorite foods of the three were served, though it was generally agreed that even Fabian Prewett, the Order's current resident cook, couldn't equal Danger as a culinary artist. Stories were swapped about them, with David and Rose, special guests for the occasion, holding their own against the entire rest of the Order with tales of Danger's childhood. However, in Larry and Patty Mead they met their match, and the two couples finally had to admit they had just about an equal number of stories about their girls.

The Marauders had to be Remus' representatives, and fulfilled their role admirably, from personal experience and the research they'd done into the contents of his own and his family home. Both sets of possessions had come to the Potters and the Blacks – Remus hadn't left a will, and John Lupin's hadn't dealt with the possibility of his son dying before himself, so the court (Aletha suspected Dumbledore's hand in it) had declared the two couples the closest thing to family currently extant and assigned all the Lupins' worldly goods to them.

As the occasion began to wind down, Rose Granger tapped a spoon on her glass, bringing the room to silence. "I have an announcement," she said. "And as friends of my Danger and her Remus, I think you should all hear what I would have told them first if they were here." She smiled warmly at David. "I'm pregnant."

There was one moment of shocked silence, then the Order swarmed forward to offer congratulations and best wishes.

"Our Danger's being our good angel, just like she always was," said David, the occasional tear escaping his eye, even though he was smiling broadly. "She always knew how much we wanted another child, even though we were thinking it might be too late. This little one is a gift from her and Remus."

After the service was over, the letters everyone had written were burned in the fireplace. People cried openly as the parchments vanished, the words disappearing in curls of flames. Evanie's was the first to be burned, and as soon as it was gone, Peter, who had been oddly dry-eyed throughout the evening, collapsed where he stood. Mr. and Mrs. Mead offered to take him home with them right away, saying they'd hardly seen him lately.

The fireplace was cleared for their use, and then Remus' and Danger's parchments were burned, together, as the two had done everything in life since they'd found each other.

"Carry my love to heaven," whispered Aletha, her voice catching, watching the smoke rise.

* * *

(A/N: Remember, CONSTANT VIGILENCE... applies to me as well as to Rowling... she's quite a bit sneakier than I am, better planning and more revision and all that... but I think I'm still pretty sneaky. So enjoy the angst-fest – it gets "better" before it gets better... if that made any sense at all... and please, please remember to tell me how you liked it! 

Oh, and I don't think I'll be going on hiatus from this. Except for those two days after HBP, when no one will be online anyway. This is far enough from canon that you ought to be able to remember that it isn't... I hope... so I'll be posting up to Thursday, possibly Friday. Enjoy!)


	3. She Wasn't There

(A/N: Character death warnings, and the usual BYOT.)

* * *

Chapter 3: She Wasn't There

Sirius was on errand-running duty on 1 February. Not looking where he was going, his head filled with thoughts of Remus, he bumped into someone.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking up.

He'd run into Lucius Malfoy.

"Black," said the other man, dusting himself off fastidiously. "How are you these days?"

"Fine, thank you," said Sirius pointedly. "How is my lovely cousin?"

"Pregnant," said Malfoy proudly. "The House of Malfoy will have an heir in June. And you? Has your lady of the night presented you with any bundles of joy yet? I can refer you to a nice young witch, very discreet, who knows all the best paternity-determination spells..."

Sirius made to move on, but Malfoy blocked his path. "I was so sorry to hear about your friends," he said, his tone dripping with compassion. "Terrible, that such a thing can happen in this day and age. But there is always hope. They might still be alive."

Not trusting his voice, Sirius gave a curt nod.

"Well, I should let you go about your business," said Malfoy, moving aside grandly. "We need strong guardians for our homes and lives even more than usual in these troubled times..."

Sirius very carefully did not hit the man as he went past.

* * *

It seemed almost wrong for life to go back to normal in the ensuing months, but everyone knew their friends would have wanted it that way. So it did. 

Aletha continued her training, weathering the occasional storms of memory in silence. Some days were easier than others. Weekends could be hard, since the house was empty and silent unless she made some noise herself, and there were some songs she couldn't play anymore, because she couldn't get through them without crying.

James and Sirius were seldom home these days, studying hard for their final tests, which they would take a few weeks earlier than the usual end of June dates. They were needed as qualified Aurors, since Alice Longbottom was going to be out of the field starting at the end of July.

Lily attended births at St. Mungo's, including helping to deliver a little boy to a woman who already had five sons. She made Aletha laugh harder than she had in months, describing the havoc the not-quite-two-year-old twin brothers of the new arrival had wreaked in the hospital room.

This, and everything else going on, Aletha detailed in the letters she had begun writing to Danger. It was stupid, she knew, but it made her feel closer to her friend. As if Danger were not dead, but only away on a trip, and someday Aletha would look up and see her come breezing in the door, brown eyes sparking mischief.

She wrote two or three letters a week, and burned them in the fireplace in the music room every Sunday morning. She made certain to do it in the mornings after she almost ran into Sirius doing the same thing on a Sunday evening. Poking through the ashes afterwards revealed a scrap of unburned parchment with just enough lettering on it to make Aletha certain he was writing to Remus.

She was careful never to go too near the music room on Sunday evenings after that. Her love needed to mourn just as she did.

* * *

James Potter and Sirius Black became full-fledged Aurors in a short ceremony on Monday, 2 June, 1980. Most of the Order of the Phoenix attended, including, for a wonder, Peter. He was being seen in public even less than before, and Aletha wondered again where he was spending all his time. Some of it, she knew, was with the Meads, working at the bookstore or just trying to be a good son-in-law, but there were large amounts of time when Peter simply wasn't anywhere to be found. 

_If this is how he wants to mourn, let him. He'll come back to us in time. _

Excitement ran high in the Order as the end of July approached. Bets were being laid on whether Lily or Alice would go into labor first. Lily and Alice were not amused.

A few days beforehand, Dumbledore called Aletha to his office in Order Headquarters.

She was not happy to hear what he had to say.

* * *

"A mission? Now? But sir–" 

"I know. You had hoped to assist Lily and Alice when they gave birth. I had hoped you might be able to as well. But a situation in Scotland has come to my attention which cannot be ignored."

Aletha sighed. "All right, sir. What is it?"

Dumbledore pulled out a scroll and handed it to her. "There are rumors of a colony of Hebridean Black dragons being magically trained to attack Muggle suburbs with fire."

Aletha frowned in confusion, skimming the scroll before looking back up at the Headmaster. "But – I'm no good with dragons. What can I do?"

"I am sending Gideon and Fabian Prewett to investigate the situation. If there are indeed dragons, whether or not there are also Death Eaters training them, injuries are likely. They will need a Healer with them, and you are the most qualified current Order member."

"But I'm only half-trained–"

"Which is more training than anyone else in this Order at the moment. You may make the difference between life and death. Will you go?"

Aletha straightened proudly. "Yes, sir."

* * *

She and the Prewetts left the next morning. She had told her friends only that she had to be away for a time, not where she was going, or why, or who with, and apologized heartily to Lily for not being there for her at this important time in her life. 

"We'll get you for it," said Lily with a grin. "We'll name Sirius godfather, and not give the little one a godmother at all, just to spite you."

"Fine, be that way." Aletha marched out in false high dudgeon, coming back in a moment later to say one last goodbye. Her last memory of Danger was the unromantic yell "Out of my way, you hairy monster!" as she and Remus raced for the door. She didn't want Lily to be faced with anything like that.

The trip north was enjoyable. The Prewetts were good company, friendly and polite, but with that mischievous look in their eyes that made her understand why James and Sirius had sought them out as mentors in the Auror training program. She was grateful, as it was nearly mid-August before they got to the site where the dragons were supposed to be.

Gideon led the way into the valley. "Odd," he said, bending to look at a rock.

"What?" Fabian stepped up beside him to look over his shoulder.

"No scorch marks here. Everything's usually burned up near a dragon colony."

"Maybe the Death Eaters keep 'em under control." Fabian shrugged, half-turning to look at Aletha.

At that very moment, the spell struck her.

She was encased in bonds of iron, or stone – a full Body-Bind, she realized as she fell heavily to the ground. She thanked whatever deity had been watching that she had been standing on a slope to one side, so that she hadn't fallen on her face, breaking her nose, or on her back, probably knocking herself out when her head hit the ground.

_Talk about small favors..._

Because now she had a perfect view of the battle. A perfect view of Gideon and Fabian fighting off five Death Eaters, fighting on despite their wounds, despite the spells cast purposely to cause them pain. She screamed silently as Gideon fell, and watched him in desperation until he breathed again, shallowly, sporadically, but he breathed.

_He's not dead yet. I could save him, if I could just get to him... if I could just move!_

But the spell would not let her go.

She watched, disbelieving, as a wounded Fabian dealt with the last two Death Eaters himself. Then he turned and looked at her. _Help me,_ his eyes begged. With the last of his strength, he incanted the countercharm to the Petrificus.

She felt the bonds loose her as he collapsed.

_Help them,_ her Healer's instincts clamored at her. _Help them, help them – they're dying, you can't hesitate –_

But she did hesitate. For one vital second, she tried to decide which of them to tend.

The rasp in Gideon's breath decided her. She began to work on him, performing the spells that should support his collapsed lung and slow his bleeding, stabilizing him until she could get through to Headquarters – there was no more need for secrecy – and have them send a Portkey out to her.

But Fabian died while she was still tending to Gideon.

And in the instant of her realizing that the man at her back no longer breathed, she let her concentration on the spell she was doing slip.

* * *

Sirius was taking an unscheduled break from his duties, relaxing with his godson in Order Headquarters. 

"Harry, Harry," he chanted like a song, rocking the little boy in his arms. "Harry James Potter." James and Lily had considered naming their child after Remus, but Sirius had reminded them of Remus' own views on names.

"The simpler the better, he said," murmured Sirius now, stroking Harry's sleeping face. "Harry Potter. Simple and strong. He'd love it. He'd love you." Remus had always loved children, and this child was special – the first child of the Marauders.

_But not the last._ Sirius smiled, wondering what a child of his and Aletha's would look like. A little girl, maybe, to counterbalance James' boy – a girl with her mum's dark face and crinkled hair, but silver-grey eyes like her dad...

A loud crack startled Harry out of his nap. Sirius quickly shushed him before he could cry and looked around to see who had Apparated in, and so noisily.

"Letha!" He was on his feet in an instant, crossing to her and shifting Harry into one arm so that he could hug her with the other. "Look, here he is, it's a boy, he was born on the 31st..." He noticed the expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Aletha said quietly. She held out her arms. "Let me see him?"

Sirius slid the little boy from his arms to hers. "His name is Harry," he said before she could ask. "Harry James."

"That's a nice name." Aletha touched Harry's hair. "I see he takes after his father."

"But look at those eyes. Just like his mum. He was born with them – I thought babies all had blue eyes."

"Mostly they do. Some have other colors." Aletha looked away. "Take him back?"

Sirius accepted Harry. "What's wrong?" he repeated. "You don't act like this for nothing."

She looked up at him, and Sirius suddenly knew how his own eyes must have looked the day he'd had to tell her that four of their friends were missing, possibly dead, possibly worse.

"Gideon and Fabian Prewett are dead," she said dully. "And it's my fault."

* * *

Dumbledore sent people north to retrieve the bodies and the defeated Death Eaters. They returned with only four, which worried Aletha slightly, but not much. Everything was secondary to the shame which was overwhelming her. 

_They're dead and it's my fault. My fault. All my fault. _

Nothing could break her out of the spiral. Seeing the little boys, Harry, and Frank and Alice's son Neville, reminded her of the woman with six sons, Molly Weasley. She hadn't known, before this trip, that Molly was the Prewetts' sister.

Visiting Rose and David Granger, Rose obviously so excited for her coming child, only made her think of Danger and Remus. She hadn't been able to save them, either.

And she couldn't bear to go to work. What if she made another mistake? Who else would die because of her?

She told Dumbledore, in private, that she was quitting the Healer's program. He looked grave, but agreed with her decision, and not to tell anyone.

She hadn't bargained with his ability to hint at things.

* * *

Someone knocked on the door of the room where Aletha was lying on the bed, crying. 

"Go away," she called.

The door opened.

"I said, go away."

"No." The firm tones in the voice made her look around. Sirius stood in the doorway. James and Lily were visible on either side of him, Lily with Harry in her arms, and she could just see Frank and Alice down the hall a little ways, Alice holding Neville.

"You're coming with us," continued Sirius. "Now."

"No."

"Yes." Sirius drew his wand and Summoned her from the bed.

She made no effort to run into him with anything softer than her feet.

"Ouch."

"You asked for it," said Lily irritably. "Honestly." She handed Harry to Frank, who was closest, and bent down to pull Aletha up. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

"We have some things to show you," said James. "Things we think you need to see."

As soon as she realized where they were taking her, Aletha tried to get away, but it was five to one, and two of them were carrying children, so they were automatically off limits. As soon as Alice and James, who had reclaimed his son from Frank, realized this, they started herding her with the babies.

That was how they got her into the Floo fire, and Lily called out the destination – St. Mungo's.

Aletha scowled at the so-familiar lobby into which her friends Apparated, surrounding her. The floating balls filled with candles, the poster-covered walls, the rows of wizards and witches waiting for treatment seemed to taunt her. "I don't want to be here."

"No, you do want to be here," Lily corrected. "You're just scared."

"I am not scared! I'm incompetent!"

"You are not," said Alice with certainty, rocking Neville soothingly. "You made a mistake. If I told you all the mistakes I've made, you'd be amazed."

"Has anyone ever died because of you?" Aletha demanded angrily.

"Yes." Alice gave her the answer unblinkingly. "Three people, in fact. One due to a misfired curse, and two because I didn't notice a killer in time."

"I lost a hostage once," said Frank. "Mishandled the situation completely. And then the wizard killed himself when he realized he'd just murdered his only bargaining chip."

"At one of the first births I ever attended, the baby was stillborn," said Lily, green eyes answering the pain in Aletha's own. "The mother was so hopeful. It almost killed me to have to tell her."

"This past year, when we were doing solo training," said James, "my mentor – Fabian Prewett, actually – let me make the decision about what to do. I chose to go in with my wand blazing. It was the worst thing I could have done. The bloke in the house might have surrendered if I'd gone in quietly. Instead, he fought back, and I had to kill him before he killed me."

"Death touches us all," said Lily, cradling her black-haired son. "But giving up isn't the answer. If you give up, you forfeit, and the other side wins. Voldemort wins. And I know you don't want that."

Sirius stepped in front of her and took her hands in his. "The whole point of being married is to have someone who knows you better than you know yourself," he said. "We haven't been married all that long, but I think we know each other pretty well. And I don't think you're a quitter. Not unless you let yourself be."

"But I let them die!"

"The only way never to fail is never to try," said Frank quietly. "And more people will die if you leave the Healer's program than if you stick with it."

Alice nodded firmly. "We're going to need good Healers before this war is over. And you will make a good Healer."

Aletha looked over her shoulder at the staircase. "I don't have my kit..." she began uncertainly.

James produced a small bundle from his pocket and enlarged it with his wand. "Brought it with us, just in case," he said, handing it over.

Aletha sighed. "Thank you, everyone," she said, smiling and surprised when it felt awkward.

_How long has it been since I smiled?_

She turned and started for the stairs.

_They're right. They're all right. I can't quit. Not now. _

_Maybe I couldn't save the Prewetts. But I'll honor their memories best by saving other people. _

Her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

* * *

Rose went into the hospital on a cool morning in mid-September, and David came out of the delivery room at half past one to announce that he had a daughter. 

"She's lovely," said Lily, rocking the tiny girl. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Hermione," said David proudly. "Hermione Jane."

"He was pulling for Ophelia, but I told him absolutely not," said Rose from the bed. "I want this little one to have a happy ending."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Hermione, a happy ending? Coming back to life after being a statue for sixteen years?"

"Being presumed dead for sixteen years," corrected David. "The statue thing was just so she could come back to life dramatically."

"It's happier than Gertrude," said Aletha quietly.

Rose sighed. David nodded sadly.

James, holding a sleeping Harry, shook his head. "One of these days, I am going to have to read some Shakespeare and figure out what all you people are talking about."

He couldn't understand why everyone laughed.

* * *

Halloween was hard. All anyone could think of was their absent friends. Aletha had kept writing her letters, though they had become slightly less frequent as time went on, but she still managed to get one done a week at least. 

She wrote three on Halloween, pouring her heart out through the quill.

"_Dearest Danger, I miss you so much. Everything seems wrong without you. The house is so empty, I've been thinking of asking Sirius if we can move. We could get new renters, I suppose, but that feels wrong. I don't like thinking of new people living where you and Remus used to live, using your furniture, your kitchen, your home. Still, it has to happen sometime. Most houses are homes to more than just one family. But you didn't choose to leave here. You were taken away. I guess that's why I keep expecting you to come home. We haven't even changed the locks..._"

"_Harry is such a beautiful baby. James and Lily did what they threatened to – named Sirius his godfather, with no godmother – but I don't mind. I still get to see him just about every day. Dumbledore likes Lily to stay at Headquarters during the day, instead of being home, so I see them whenever I pop in. He wants Alice there too, instead of home, when she's off duty, and he has Lily minding Neville when Alice has to work. I wonder if there's something behind that..._"

"_I'm so sorry for Peter. I almost think it would have been better if he'd died, instead of making it back. He's like a ghost, just wandering through life, not participating at all. He smiled a little when he held Harry for the first time. I know, I know – he smiled a little? With the child of James and Lily Potter in his arms, he smiled a little? But it's the most reaction anything's gotten from him in months. Evanie really was everything to him, even more, I think, than you and Remus were to each other, if that's possible..._"

The fireplace was very full of ashes the next morning.

* * *

To everyone's surprise, Christmas managed to be something resembling happy that year. Harry, Neville, and Hermione babbled happily at each other as their mothers chatted. Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall got into a Transfiguration contest which culminated in McGonagall turning Moody into a three-legged dog and Moody, when he got his human form back, turning McGonagall into an orange kitten. Even Peter was there, and he was seen to smile more than once in the course of the evening. 

Paradoxically, the lives of the remaining Marauders became happier through the winter, as the war worsened. Sirius and James, of course, were never so happy as when they were fighting. James loved to tell the story of the day they'd been pinned down by enemy fire against a building. Reinforcements were coming, but they were nearly half a mile from the rendezvous point, and surrounded on all sides. Suddenly Sirius had jumped up.

"What are you _doing?_" James had hissed at him.

"Something stupid," Sirius had shot back. "Make good use of it, will you?" And with that, he was off, running across the field screaming like a maniac. He didn't even stop when some bizarre curse from the Death Eater lines Vanished all his clothing and turned his skin bright green. James had managed, with a supreme exercise of self-control, to get into a better position, set up spells to lead the reinforcements to their location, and pick off a few enemies before he succumbed to helpless laughter.

Lily was working only part-time now, most of her energy focused on the dark-haired bundle of energy that was her son. Harry was no sooner crawling than he tried to walk, no sooner walking than he tried to run, and constantly trying to get into the closet where James stored his broomstick. If James had been like this as a child, his mother had everyone's sympathies, Aletha thought.

Spring was a difficult time for the Order of the Phoenix. They seemed to be losing people every day; if not members of the Order, then members' families. Voldemort obviously knew who they were, and was attacking them in their weak spots.

Aletha had to stop Lily from physically harming her sister Petunia at the April funeral of their parents, when Petunia openly accused Lily of being the reason the Evanses were dead. The worst of it was, of course, that Petunia was at least partly right – if Lily hadn't been a witch, her parents would never have died.

"You couldn't help being a witch," said Aletha strongly. "No more could I, or any of us. It's in our blood, Lily. There's nothing we can do about it."

The Evanses appeared to have died quietly, in their sleep, for which everyone was grateful. There was nothing they could have done, had they been awake.

That was not the case with James' parents.

Harold Potter was a retired Auror, of Alastor Moody's generation, and Marguerite Potter had been a dueling champion before her marriage, and after it as well. Voldemort either didn't know this, or didn't care, when he sent a mere three Death Eaters to kill the couple. They succeeded, but all three met their own demise as well, not even surviving long enough to cast the Dark Mark over the house. James found them the next morning, when he stepped through the Potters' fire to invite his parents over for tea.

Sirius and Aletha made it their business to be there for their friends, often taking care of Harry, even overnight, as the Potters struggled with the shared pain of losing their parents. Aletha had to take a lot of the burden on herself, as Sirius was mourning too. The Potters had been like a family to him, much as the Grangers were to her.

An owl came to the Blacks' home in June, bearing a letter from David and Rose, sent through the 3M service, inviting Sirius and Aletha to their house for tea and a chat.

"Do we have anything scheduled?" asked Sirius, reading the note.

"No, nothing on the calendar," said Aletha. "I'll call Voldemort and ask him not to attack anywhere."

"You do that."

They arrived at the Grangers' home at three-thirty the next day.

"We wanted to talk about Hermione," said David, looking at his daughter where she sat playing on the kitchen floor, stacking rings on a pillar. "With the world the way it is... well, life's uncertain, more than it used to be. We would have asked Danger and Remus this, but they're not here, and you are..."

"We'd be honored if you'd take care of Hermione," said Rose. "If anything happens to us."

"Of course we will," said Aletha quickly. "But nothing's going to happen to you, you're not even involved anymore..."

"We're Muggles," said David with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Torture fodder. And if my girl pissed off a few of them before she went, as I have no doubt she did, they might want some payback."

"They wouldn't know where to find you," said Sirius surely. "Danger would never have given them this address. Ours, or James and Lily's, maybe – she knows we can defend ourselves – but not yours. She wouldn't send them here."

* * *

Neville and Harry turned one at the end of July. The Order threw them a joint party, and both birthday boys celebrated in the traditional manner, by throwing their cake at everyone they could reach. They especially seemed to enjoy plastering one another. 

17 August was a Monday. Aletha was just coming off her shift when a nearby painting hailed her. "Hoy! Freeman-Black!"

"Yes?"

"Owl for you. Waiting in the message center."

"Thanks." Aletha headed for the stairs. The message center of the hospital shared the fifth floor with the tearoom and gift shop.

The letter, in Sirius' handwriting, was short and to the point.

_Attack in Surrey. Come to the Ministry._

Aletha folded the letter, her mind racing.

_Surrey. Who do we know who lives..._

Her heart fell through the floor and all the way to the ground six stories below.

_Rose and David – Hermione!_

She was racing down the stairs, flying past people, making the portraits on the walls exclaim, but she didn't hear any of it.

_No, oh no, please not them too, not them too..._

In seconds, or so it seemed, she was running through the Atrium at the Ministry, forcing herself not to jab repeatedly at the button for Level Two – that wouldn't make the lift go any faster...

Sirius was waiting for her outside the lifts. His face was carefully blank, and that scared her. "In my cubicle," he said quietly, taking her hand.

A small couch awaited them there, obviously created from Sirius' desk chair. Aletha sank onto it while Sirius sealed the cubicle with a Privacy Spell. "Tell me quickly," she said when he turned to face her.

Sirius nodded. "David and Rose are dead," he said heavily. "They were tortured."

Aletha shivered, but she would mourn later. She needed to know something else first.

"Hermione?" She knew he would tell her in a second, but she couldn't help asking. The bright little-girl face, so very like Danger's, kept rising in her imagination, twisted in fear or pain, begging for her help...

Sirius wouldn't meet her eyes. "We don't know," he said quietly. "She wasn't there."

"Wasn't there?" Aletha felt a surge of relief. "You mean she was at day care. They hadn't picked her up yet."

"No." Sirius was still staring at the wall. "We made inquiries. She'd already been picked up. She was there. But now she's not."

Everything seemed to go very quiet, and then very dark. Aletha had only one thought remaining to her as she slipped away.

_What do they want with the Granger girls?_

* * *

He looked down at the child, charmed asleep in the cradle, and felt a smile curl his lip. 

No spell could be considered truly usable until it had been cast at least twice, with similar if not precisely the same results, and by at least one other wizard or witch than the original caster. He felt himself privileged to be the second to cast this particular spell. It had not done what it was intended for due to an unscheduled interruption, but what it had done had been so very successful that it had been decided to try it again. Similar raw materials, at least on one side of the equation, might well help.

Of course, it didn't hurt that the use of this raw material would also fulfill another goal of his, the same goal the afternoon's fun and games had fulfilled. And if all went well, his son and heir would soon have what he had already provided for himself and his wife.

He had meant what he'd said earlier in the year.

* * *

(A/N: Sigh. These chapters just keep getting longer. And I'm sure you're all terribly sad about that. 

Note to those who asked: This story diverges from "Slice of Heaven" around Chapter 4, since Remus' mother dies and Aletha's doesn't get her cancer treated, but keeps to that timeline with regards to Evanie, and to Sirius and Aletha's romance. None of the Great Battle stuff (including Regulus' sacrifice and Remus' and Danger's human-by-day-wolf-by-night bit) happened in this universe.

Hermione's fate is a late addition to the story. I was originally intending to have her at day care, as in LwD, and have Sirius and Aletha take her in. But last night, I had a marvelous idea, and thus it unfolds as you see it now... ahh, the joy of knowing the ending... yes, I'm horrendously mean. I know. Maybe I wouldn't be so mean if people loved me! What's with the no Yahoo, almost no reviews bit? Is it just that it's Monday? Please get over it, whatever it is! I need my review love!)


	4. What's Left to Take?

(A/N: Prepare to cry, and possibly scream at characters and/or author.)

* * *

Chapter 4: What's Left to Take?

October was about half-over, and Aletha was in the kitchen, burning dinner.

_Two people who can't cook should never marry each other. _

_I miss Danger._

The thought led inevitably to more thoughts. David and Rose tortured and killed, Hermione missing... the Prewetts, dead because of her... Lily's parents, and James'...

She had very few thoughts these days that didn't lead to some kind of sorrow. So many deaths, so much pain and suffering...

_So we have to find the humor where we can. _

_Like right now._

She grabbed her wand and put out the fire which had erupted in the oven while she'd been thinking.

_Looks like pizza for dinner again. _

The Floo went off in the music room while she was clearing the smoke out of the kitchen. She left the rest of it to clear out on its own and went in to greet Sirius.

The look on his face stopped her. "All right, who died now?" she asked resignedly.

"Huh?"

"Who died?"

"Oh – no one. Everyone's fine. I was just... thinking."

Aletha crossed her arms suspiciously.

"Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"About something important?"

"Well... no," Aletha had to admit. Sirius might tell fibs, but he had never lied to her about a subject of importance. Bent the truth, misguided and misled her, and told her what she wanted to hear, yes. But he had never flat out lied.

"I had a talk with James and Lily," said Sirius in a tone that was trying to be casual.

"About what?"

Sirius sat down on the couch, resting his arm along its back in a clear invitation for her to join him. "Letha, I'd do anything to end this war."

"So would I."

"But there's a problem."

"Yes. The main cause for the war doesn't want to be ended. I mean, with a name like Vol-de-mort – flies-from-death – who would ever think that?"

"How'd you know that about his name?"

Aletha sighed. "Remus broke it down for me once."

"All right. Letha, there's a chance someone we know could end the war."

"You mean, kill Voldemort? Is this a mission or something?"

"Not quite. See..." Sirius frowned, thinking. Aletha refrained from making the obvious joke about it looking like hard work.

Aloud.

"Dumbledore witnessed a prophecy," said Sirius finally. "About 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'."

"That's good. Did the prophecy say who this one might be?"

"Yeah. It did. Kind of. It gave two possibilities."

"Are you going to tell me, or are you enjoying dragging it out like this?"

"Would you please quit hassling me? I'm trying to decide how much I'm allowed to tell you!"

Aletha's eyebrows went up. "Allowed?"

"Letha, James and Lily swore me to secrecy six different ways before they'd tell me a word of this. The thing is, Voldemort only knows a part of it. And he'd do anything to get his hands on the rest. Every person who knows is another risk, and we do have a spy in the Order. Please understand, I don't mean it personally, not at all – I know you'd never tell a living soul, and there's not a chance in hell you're the spy – but..."

"I do understand." Aletha forced down her first reaction of anger and humiliation – wasn't she good enough? – and reminded herself that Sirius was talking sense. Anyone could be broken under torture, but what she didn't know, she couldn't tell, not even by accident.

"I can tell you the part he already knows, then," said Sirius with some relief. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'"

"Born?"

"It was made a little over a year ago," said Sirius quietly. "Late June or early July, I'm not really sure which."

_Born as the seventh month dies... at the end of July..._ A cold weight settled into Aletha's chest. "Harry."

"Yes. Possibly."

"Or it could be Neville, I suppose – was there anything else? Anything that might tell you which one it was?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing I can tell you about. I'm sorry."

"All right." Aletha frowned. "Hang on. If it was made over a year ago, why are we just hearing about it now?"

"Because Dumbledore's spy in the Death Eaters has just warned him that Voldemort is gearing up to do something about it. So Dumbledore wants James and Lily and Harry, and Frank and Alice and Neville, to go into hiding right away, or as soon as they can manage it. We were discussing what kinds of spells and things to use to hide them, and if they're going to have to move, or if we can just safeguard their houses..."

* * *

Frank and Alice chose to move into a secret safehouse in the countryside, so secret that no one in the Order even knew where it was. They had been living with Frank's parents, and didn't want to expose them to unnecessary danger. James and Lily, on the other hand, had their house in Godric's Hollow, which could be safeguarded adequately. They hoped. 

"They want to use the Fidelius Charm," said Sirius to Aletha at dinner. "And they've asked me to be Secret-Keeper."

Aletha smiled, allowing her pride to show while carefully hiding her fear. Being the only man between Lord Voldemort and what he wanted was horribly dangerous, there was every probability that he'd be killed...

_But they have to come through me first. _

"No one better," she answered without revealing her inner determination.

"Are you sure? Dumbledore volunteered for it himself."

"Yes, I'm sure. Dumbledore's a great man and a great wizard, but if anyone deserves to have those three lives in his hands, it's you."

Sirius blushed and mumbled something inaudible through a mouthful of curry (they were having Indian take-out tonight, as a change from pizza). Aletha decided she'd complimented him enough for one night and changed the subject slightly. "You'll have to make sure to tell me where they are, so I can go and visit."

"Don't worry, I will. But not for a week or so after it's performed – we want to make sure it's working out right before we disrupt it any more than we have to."

"Fine." Aletha sighed. "Any luck finding the spy?"

Sirius shook his head dismally. "None at all. Dumbledore's been trying to seed information – tell things to only certain people and see if they turn up in Death Eater communications – but so far, no luck. Whoever he is, he's clever."

* * *

The Charm was performed on 24 October. Aletha was not present – third and fourth year Healer students had to take their turns at the on-call booth, and her shift had come up at just the wrong time. She would have loved to see the intricate spellcasting of the Fidelius at work, but her duty came first. 

The next week was a jumpy one. Order Headquarters seemed very empty without the Potters or the Longbottoms there. Aletha missed the babies especially, with their cheerful babbling and infectious giggles. Sirius, of course, visited the Potters daily and reported copiously, and she and Lily were owling back and forth all the time. Still, it wasn't the same.

She found herself wondering how much more the war could take away from her. People she'd loved as parents had been brutally murdered, their child stolen to suffer heaven only knew what fate. Three of her best friends were gone forever, a fourth returned but nothing like himself, two more hiding from the world because a madman wanted to murder their son...

_What's left to take?_

It was a question she would rue asking forever.

* * *

The Potters were sitting by their fire on Halloween night, not really talking or doing anything, just being together. Harry was grabbing at a Golden Snitch which James had charmed to fly slowly and within his reach. He was catching it a remarkable amount of the time, Lily noticed with pride. Perhaps he'd be a Seeker someday... 

A shadow fell briefly across the window, then vanished. "That's odd," said James, getting up to look.

"What?"

"No one should be able to get close enough to us to cast a shadow... not unless it's Peter or Sirius, not even Dumbledore's been told yet..."

Lily turned, surprised at James' sudden silence. Her husband was frozen in the act of peering out the window. "It's him," he breathed. "It's him..."

He spun, naked fear in his eyes. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's _him!_"

Lily snatched up Harry and scrambled to her feet. James was pointing at the staircase, fumbling out his wand. "Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

She stumbled up the stairs, hearing the door burst open, and a high-pitched laugh which chilled her blood.

* * *

"So, Potter, face to face once again," said Lord Voldemort, smirking. "You have defied me three times. No one has ever survived a fourth." 

"Go on, then, kill me," taunted James, praying Lily would think to run, to get out the back window and down the tree which grew there, she could be in town in a few minutes, lose herself there, anything to keep her and Harry alive...

"I take no orders from the likes of you," said Voldemort silkily. "Dumbledore is always telling me that there are worse things than death. Perhaps I shall test that. On you."

A flurry of spellcasting ensued. James managed to block several spells, even getting in one hit on Voldemort, before the Dark wizard disarmed him and threw him into a wall, leaving him on the floor, drained and gasping for breath.

"A fate worse than death," said Voldemort, advancing on him. "Yes, I believe I have the perfect lot for you..."

James pulled himself up, glaring. Death, torture, or whatever this evil excuse for a man was about to do to him, he wasn't going to go out lying on his back like a bug.

Then the spell hit him, and all he could do was scream.

* * *

Lily lowered Harry into his crib and quickly covered her son's ears as James began to scream on the floor below. The sound tore into her heart with fangs and claws. 

_He's dying. And Harry's going to die. _

She would have given anything to stop the sound.

And then it did stop.

_There. He's dead. He can't suffer any more now. _

She took her hands away from Harry's ears, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes, since more would come in an instant to take their place. Her son looked up at her, confused. "Mama?" he asked.

Unable to say anything, Lily merely kissed her son's smooth forehead, then carefully raised the side of the crib so that Harry couldn't see anything that went on in the room.

_I won't let you die,_ she vowed silently. _Not if it lies in my power to stop it. _

All that she might be able to do was delay his death. But she would still do it.

The door crashed open. Lily whirled, heart in her mouth.

Lord Voldemort stood framed by the doorway. "Stand aside," he said, motioning with his wand.

"Not Harry," babbled Lily, knowing he wouldn't listen, but compelled to try – it was possible, just barely marginally possible, that he might... "Not Harry, please not Harry..."

"Stand aside, you silly girl." Voldemort's eyes bored into her. "Stand aside, _now._"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead..."

"I have no interest in you," said Voldemort icily. "Only in him."

Lily tightened her hands on the crib's bars behind her.

"And now it is time to send him to his dear father."

"Not Harry!" Lily screamed as a force pushed her aside. "Please – have mercy – have mercy..."

Voldemort laughed, pointed his wand at Harry, and spoke two words. Lily didn't listen to them. All her being was focused on pushing through the magic holding her against the wall.

She broke through it just in time to take the curse on herself.

And then she knew why James had screamed.

* * *

Lord Voldemort (he never forgot his title in his own thoughts) looked with distaste at the place where the woman had been standing. Filthy Mudblood – she deserved what she'd gotten. 

He stepped closer to the crib. The child inside eyed him curiously. He changed his plans in that instant. The brat would only become a greater danger to him with every passing year, no matter how strong he himself became. Killing him now was the safest way to go.

He pointed his wand at the green-eyed boy.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

* * *

Sirius was doing rounds of central London, disguised as just another Muggle motorcyclist, thinking idly of other things while watching for trouble. 

_Letha actually made something tasty last night. Maybe she found Danger's secret stash of recipes. _

_Tea was nice this afternoon. We should have Peter over more often._

_Wonder how soon before James or Frank and Alice can come back to work? We're getting a bit swamped without them..._

He was stopped at a red light when something small and silvery caught his eye. He pulled off at the next parking lot to have a look.

It was Dumbledore's Order signal, and the small silver phoenix fluttered in a pattern which meant it contained a message. Sirius pulled off one of his gloves and held out his hand. The phoenix landed on his wrist and sank in, and a thought began to form dimly in Sirius' mind. He held back, waiting for it to materialize fully, but it was hard.

Doubly hard, as the content of the message made itself known.

_Disturbance in Godric's Hollow. Please investigate immediately. _

He was back on the motorcycle in an instant, kicking it started, throwing in the flying gear and secrecy be damned. His friends needed him.

He spotted the village long before he should have been able to. There was a green glow marking it. As he got closer, he realized with sinking horror that the glow was coming from Lily and James' part of town... from their street... from their house...

Which wasn't there any more.

An enormous figure was climbing out of the ruins of the house, a small bundle in his arms. Shaking so hard he could barely steer, Sirius landed, staring at what had once been one of his favorite places in the world.

"Sirius?" Hagrid loomed over him. "Yeh got th'message, then?"

Sirius nodded. "How'd you get here?" he asked in a voice he didn't recognize as his own, looking up at Hagrid's face rather than at the bundle in his arms, the bundle which could be only one thing.

His godson's body.

The words of the prophecy rang in his head.

"_Either must die at the hand of the other..."_

Hagrid was about to answer, when a sound from the bundle made them both look at it, Hagrid sadly, Sirius in shock.

Harry was starting to cry.

"Hagrid... he's not..."

Hagrid unfolded the blanket he had wrapped around the child so that Sirius could see his godson, wide-eyed, trembling, and with blood streaking his face, but very much alive.

"What's that from?" Sirius demanded, pointing at the blood.

"Cut on his forehead. Dunno how he got it. Funny, too – no sign'f anyone else in the house, alive nor dead. Not James, not Lily, not even You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore said it musta bin him in the house, since all his alarms went off at once – I was closest, he made me a Portkey ta get here quick..."

"He probably killed them," said Sirius, staring at the ruins of the house. "Vanished their bodies or something, so we'd have to wonder..."

Hagrid patted him awkwardly on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. "'S awful," he agreed, sniffling with a noise like a foghorn. "But strange, too – You-Know-Who never left anyone alive if he meant ter kill them – so what's little Harry doin' alive? An' where is he?"

Sirius shook his head. "Don't know. You said there's no sign of him?"

"None. An' no good askin' the neighbors, with the house bein' under Fidelius an' all..."

Harry's cries were starting to escalate. "Here, give him to me," said Sirius, holding out his arms. "I'm his godfather, I'll look after him."

"Well... only fer a little while." Hagrid's whiskery face was grave as he handed Harry over. "Orders, yeh know."

"Orders? From who?"

"Dumbledore, o'course. He told me jus' what ter do if I found Harry alive."

"Give him to me," said Sirius, rocking his godson, trying to soothe him. "I'm his guardian now, with James and Lily... gone." He forced the thought to the back of his mind. Harry needed him now.

Hagrid shook his head. "No, Dumbledore said it wouldn' be safe fer Harry ter go ter you an' Letha. Not right yet, in any case. He said Harry'd be safest with his own flesh an' blood."

"His own... Hagrid, you're not honestly suggesting taking Harry to live with Lily's sister?" Sirius stared up at the gamekeeper, aghast. "That's the only 'flesh and blood' he has left now, and that's just insane! They hate Lily, they hate magic, there's no way they'd take him in!"

"Tha's what Dumbledore told me," Hagrid reiterated. "Harry's gotta go ter his aunt and uncle."

"Bad idea," said Sirius vigorously. "Very bad idea." Then he stopped. Something had just triggered in his mind.

Peter Pettigrew, saying those very words, shaking his head.

"_Bad idea, Sirius. Very bad idea."_

Memory rushed over him.

* * *

"How is it a bad idea?" demanded Sirius, stung. 

"Everyone knows you and James. You're like brothers, the inseparables. Everyone knows James would trust you above anyone else. You're too obvious to be the Secret-Keeper. They'd be on your doorstep within an hour after the charm was cast." Sirius hadn't seen Peter this animated about anything since Evanie had been lost. This must mean a lot to him.

"So what would you suggest?" he asked, perversely enjoying the sight of Peter excited about something for once. Maybe he was finally starting to recover.

"Do a swap. Secretly. You keep telling people you're going to be the Secret-Keeper, while someone else actually is. Lily's doing the charm herself, right? So no one else needs to know about it. Just you and James and Lily, and whoever else you pick to be Secret-Keeper."

Sirius nodded, thinking about it. It was a simple plan, but very effective. The Death Eaters could torture him all they liked, but he couldn't tell them anything except the name of the actual Secret-Keeper. Another level of security, so to speak. "I like that."

"I thought you would." Peter actually smiled.

"Would you do it?"

Peter was caught off-guard. "M-me?"

"It was your idea. You should have first refusal. Besides, this way we keep it nice and close. Just the four of us. No one else needs to know. Well, besides Letha, of course."

Peter looked alarmed. "No, wait – I'll do it on one condition."

"What?"

"_Don't_ tell Letha."

"What? Why not? She's my wife, I tell her everything." _Everything except that damned prophecy..._

"Padfoot, every person who knows is another person who can tell," argued Peter, in words eerily like Sirius' own argument about the prophecy. "And do you want to see Letha get tortured or killed?" His eyes were haunted. "If they hurt someone you love, or even threaten them, you do anything you can to make them stop. Trust me. I know."

"All right, Wormtail, you win. If James and Lily agree, you're the Secret-Keeper."

They shook on it.

* * *

_I have to find Peter. I have to find him. What could they have done since five o'clock this afternoon to make him spill his guts like this? How did they even know?_

_Harry will be all right with Lily's sister for a few days. Just until I find Peter and get everything cleared up. I know James and Lily named me guardian, Dumbledore can't very well deny him to me..._

_But I have to find Peter first. _

"Hagrid, you can't Apparate, can you?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Nope."

"And it's not safe with a baby anyway." Sirius shifted his weight, rocking Harry, who was looking up at him with such devotion and trust that it was hard to look away. "Here, take my motorcycle. You can ride it with Harry. Get him where he has to go."

"Aw, thanks – yer sure?"

"I'm sure. You just take good care of Harry."

"I will," Hagrid promised, mounting the motorcycle, which magically expanded to fit his frame.

Sirius Vanished his helmet, sending it back to its home under the seat, and looked down at Harry again. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the blood from his godson's face, looking at the cut on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. "Padfoot has to go bye-bye for a little while, Harry," he said quietly. "But don't you worry too much. I'll be back for you soon."

Harry babbled something in reply, from which Sirius caught only "Pa-fuh" and "Bye-bye".

"Here, you go to Hagrid," he said, handing the child over. "You be a good boy for him, all right?"

Hagrid nodded to him, then kicked the starter and took off, steering the bike very well, Sirius thought, with only using one hand. Harry's squeal of delight was just audible over the roar of the motor.

_James' son all over. Loves to fly, any way possible._

Thoughts of James and Lily threatened to take him over. Resolutely, he forced them down.

_I have to find Peter. I have to see what happened to him. _

He started running, moving away from the disturbed magic he could sense hanging around what had once been James and Lily's home. Let the Muggles make what they would of the destruction. Sirius Black had more important things to do tonight.

* * *

The flat where Peter lived was deserted. There were no signs of a struggle. In fact, the place was cleaner than Sirius had seen it in a long time. 

_Was he expecting guests?_

The wedding picture of Peter and Evanie, which had been put away in a cupboard for nearly two years now, was back to its place of honor on the mantelpiece. Sirius looked at it, watching himself and his friends talking, laughing, toasting each other...

_Why would he take that out? _

He frowned. He was getting close to an answer of some kind, but his mind kept sheering away from it, insisting he wouldn't like it and didn't want to see it. Sirius forced himself back to it and thought hard about his friend Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, and everything he'd done since...

_Since he escaped the Death Eaters. _

_Or since he said he escaped. There's a bunch of holes in his story – for one thing, he could never transform under pressure. No pun intended. How would he have managed it, scared for his life? And how did a rat get away from all those snakes? He should have been lunch. _

_He's been missing an awful lot lately. Not with us, not with the Meads, not anywhere that we can find him. But he always comes to Order meetings. _

_And he suggested the switch of Secret-Keepers. It was his idea. And he acted surprised that I offered it to him, but he had to know that was coming. _

_And now James and Lily are dead, he's the only one who could have told anyone where they were, and he's missing..._

It hit him like a slap in the dark.

_He's the spy. _

_He's the spy we've all been looking for. He's perfect. Little, inconsequential, we look right past him..._

_But why? Why would he turn to the people who killed his wife?_

He looked again at the picture, around at the clean flat...

_You clean when you're expecting someone. Someone you haven't seen in a long time. _

_And we have no idea what happened to Evanie. We just tend to think she's dead, because it's easier on us that way. _

_What if she's not? _

_What if they've been using her as some kind of leverage on him? _

"_Tell us these little, inconsequential things, or your wife dies..." _

_And then little things turn into big things..._

He was breathing hard now, his hands clenched around his robes. _Dammit, why couldn't he just have told us they were blackmailing him?_

_Because then Evanie would have died, as soon as they found out he'd sold them out. _

His memory provided him with Peter's bleak face, and the words that had gone with it.

"_If they hurt someone you love, or even threaten them, you do anything you can to make them stop. Trust me. I know."_

Sirius stared once more at the picture, at the tiny Peter and Evanie kissing over their champagne flutes.

_He was expecting her home. That's what this all means. They must have told him, if he could give them something big, he'd get her back. _

_And he gave them the Potters. _

He started looking around the flat, looking for something, anything, that was uniquely and personally Peter's. He finally settled on a small piece from a half-finished model, a small metal rod with a hole bored in one end. He quickly conjured a string, passed it through the hole, tied it off, and hung the thing around his neck. "_Induco Erum,_" he said, tapping it with his wand.

The small thing tugged at its cord, showing him which direction to go.

Sirius left the building, a red haze clouding his vision more and more, only one thought in his mind.

He would find Wormtail.

And he would show his former friend more mercy than Voldemort had showed to James and Lily.

He would make sure that Evanie was somewhere safe before he killed Peter.

* * *

(A/N: There you are. One slightly nasty cliffy for everyone. Please do review, and be prepared for exceedingly high angst levels next chapter. But after that, things start getting ever so slightly better... though it's going to take a while for stuff to get all better, the way everyone wants... just be patient, I promise it will be OK in the end!) 


	5. Alone

(A/N: HEAVY angst ahead. You have been warned.)

* * *

Chapter 5: Alone

Aletha sat alone by the fireplace, a cup of tea in her hands and a quiet smile on her face, waiting.

She glanced at the clock – it was 1:24 AM. She'd gotten out of work at midnight and been home within a few minutes. Sirius' shift ended at one, but he had to report in, a process which usually took about half an hour. So he should be on his way home soon.

She hoped he was. She had something to tell him.

She sipped at her tea, thinking dreamy, happy thoughts, filled with songs and games and laughter, and the promise of a brighter future. The war would have to end sometime. Perhaps not until Harry grew up, or Neville, and defeated Voldemort, but they would all survive.

_Except the ones who already haven't. _

Her eyes rested on the framed picture of her and Sirius' wedding, in pride of place on the mantel, and on two couples in particular.

_Two years to the day. Two years since we knew anything, heard anything, except for what Peter could tell us. _

She still missed them. The pain was duller now, and less intrusive in her life, but she was learning again what she had learned when her mother died and her father disappeared – it would never go away entirely. She was never going to "get over it".

_To do that, I'd have to forget them. _

_And I'm not willing to make that trade._

She smiled at the photograph, Danger laughing at something Remus had said, Peter stroking Evanie's arm tenderly. Idly she wondered, if they had been able to have children, what would they have looked like?

She spent some time designing babies for them – all the Pettigrew children would look unprepossessing, but become darling when they smiled, just like their parents, and any child of Danger and Remus' was sure to get the untamable Granger hair and the strong Lupin face. Peter and Evanie should only have girls, she decided, so their father could spoil them rotten, and Danger and Remus should have twins, a boy and a girl, in Harry's year or one below so that he and they could drive the teachers mad...

_He and they and one other. _

Aletha smiled quietly again, then thought to check the clock.

She was startled to see that it was already past two. Where was Sirius? He usually sent her an Order message if he was going to be late – but he might have been delayed somewhere he couldn't send a message from, or he might have forgotten. He did tend to do that.

_Besides, I'm not allowed to worry until he's an hour late. That's the rule. Fretting has to wait for another hour after that, and full-blown panic is not allowed to ensue until he's three hours overdue. _Remus had proposed the rule, only half in fun, after Aletha had ripped a curtain with pulling on it in anxiety when Sirius was an hour and a half late for dinner.

_What would you think about this, Remus?_ Aletha wondered, then smiled at her own silliness. _You'd be tremendously happy for us – you had that gift. You could always be happy with other people, without being jealous of what they had and you never would. Not many people can honestly do that. _

_And you always survived, no matter what happened. If you had come back, instead of Peter, you would miss Danger terribly, but you wouldn't be a ghost of yourself, wandering aimlessly through life. You'd be in the Department of Mysteries every day, or wherever else you could help best, fighting to end this war so that no one else's loved ones had to die..._

_I hope, whatever happened to you, they didn't break you. You had your pride. It was quiet and hidden, like everything about you, but you had it. You wouldn't take charity, in any form – we had to be so discreet about offering to rent to you at a price you could afford. And you were always careful not to give offense unintentionally. If you were going to offend someone, you wanted it to be deliberate. _

She snickered, thinking of a few times when Remus had quietly deflated the egos of some of the more pompous Ministry officials he ran across. He had especially liked twitting Augustus Rookwood, a high official in his own Department of Mysteries, which of course meant that the comments had to be utterly subtle, never anything Rookwood could take open offense at.

_God, I miss you. I miss you all. I think I will ask Sirius if we can move. We'll have a good excuse, at least..._

Thinking of Sirius reminded her to check the clock again. 2:37.

_All right, now I'm allowed to worry. And I will. Where has he gotten to? _

Something silvery shot through the wall. Aletha's heart leapt.

_A message!_

But the creature made of silver light was not the dog she had been expecting, but a phoenix.

_What does Dumbledore want at this hour of the night?_

Aletha held out her wrist, and the phoenix settled onto it. A thought flowed into her mind, in Dumbledore's voice, as if she had just remembered something the Headmaster of Hogwarts had told her.

_Please come to my office at the school as soon as is convenient. _

That was Dumbledore-ese for "immediately". Aletha took Floo powder from the vase on the mantel where they kept it and threw a good pinch into the fire. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts," she said as the flames roared green, and let them take her away.

She was shocked, when she emerged from the fireplace, to see the lines on Dumbledore's face. She knew, of course, that he was not a young man, but his age rarely struck her so strongly as it did now. Something terrible must have happened.

He turned towards her and smiled slightly. "Aletha. Please do sit down. I hope I did not wake you."

"Not at all, Sirius is out on nighttime rounds, and I was waiting up for him – has something happened to him?" She sat down, looking at him anxiously.

"Not directly, no. But I am afraid I do have bad news."

_What other kind is there, lately?_

"James and Lily Potter, as far as we can determine, are dead."

Something roared in Aletha's ears, and the room seemed to darken. She pushed the sound and the darkness back – she would not, she must not, faint, not now. "As far as you can determine?" she asked, proud at the levelness in her voice.

"Around eleven-thirty in the evening, the alarms and wards I set on their home to detect invasion, specifically the invasion of Lord Voldemort or Death Eaters, all activated at the same time. I was not able to leave the school myself at that point, so I sent Hagrid to see what was happening, as well as dispatching a message to the nearest available Order member who was a full wizard or witch. Hagrid reported back to me shortly thereafter that the house was destroyed, with no sign of James, Lily, or any attackers."

_No sign of anyone? That doesn't make sense..._

_Wait. There's someone missing on that list. Matter of fact, he hasn't mentioned him at all. _

"What about Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled, a real one, this time. "Harry Potter is alive and well. Hagrid is caring for him at the moment, and will be bringing him to his new guardians tonight."

"His new guardians – but that's us. Sirius and me. James and Lily wanted Sirius to have Harry if anything happened to them."

Dumbledore looked grave. Aletha frowned. "What are you not telling me, sir?"

"When was the last time you saw Sirius, Aletha?"

"Let me think. Peter left around five. We had dinner at six, and his shift starts at eight, but he always likes to get in early, so he probably left around... oh, seven-thirty, I'd guess. Why?"

"Do you believe," said Dumbledore quietly, "that any force in the world, other than harm threatened to yourself, could pry a secret from Sirius Black in less than four hours?"

What Aletha had been conveniently forgetting, or perhaps unconsciously blocking, flooded into her mind. Sirius was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. If Voldemort or the Death Eaters had found them, it was only because Sirius had told them where to go.

And Dumbledore was right. Sirius was too strong to be broken down in four hours – four days would be more necessary, and even that seemed unlikely. He could have been ordered to tell the secret under Imperius, or given some kind of potion to pry the truth from him, but he would have fought against that with all his will and all his magic, which were both considerable. Aletha had even seen him do wandless magic on a few occasions.

All of which pointed in one of two directions, neither of which she wanted to look in.

Either someone had found a way to break Sirius and force him to tell the secret of the Potters' location.

Or Sirius had told someone willingly.

As soon as she thought it, she wanted to laugh. It was preposterous, ridiculous, impossible. Sirius, willingly tell a secret to the Dark Side? A secret of this importance? Never. He was incapable of such an act.

"_The whole point of being married is to have someone who knows you better than you know yourself."_ And she knew Sirius that well. There was no way in the world he could have turned traitor.

But the alternative was no better, and barely more likely. What, if anything, could break Sirius down so quickly? Dumbledore had mentioned one thing that might have done it, but nothing of that sort had happened. She was here, she was perfectly fine...

_But there are ways to make one person look like another. What if they got some random person off the street, anyone would do, and made them look like me? There are potions and charms to do that, they're complicated but not impossible..._

_And then torture "me" in front of him. That might have done it. _

_But he would have known. He would have figured it out. He knows me too well, he would have seen something that didn't fit, and figured it out. _

_And he would never have sacrificed Lily and James to save me. For one thing, it's wrong – for another, it wouldn't get him anything. I'd kill him myself if he did that. _

So she was back to the first option she'd explored. Sirius, a traitor to their cause. A spy for the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore coughed slightly. She looked up, startled, having almost forgotten he was there. "May I know what you are thinking?" he asked gently.

She explained, haphazardly, the two explanations she'd come up with, and why neither of them could be true, but obviously one of them must... "Do you know anything I don't, sir?"

"Only two things. First, I have spoken with Sirius' immediate superior. He arrived safely for work and went out on his rounds on time. Second, there is a part of Hagrid's report I am afraid I kept from you at first. As he was removing Harry from the house, another member of the Order arrived there. Sirius."

Aletha resisted the urge to pull at the neck of her robes; she was not choking, the air in the room was perfectly fine. "Was he... all right?"

"He did not appear to be injured or harmed in any way. He was, of course, upset by what he saw. He asked Hagrid to give him Harry, but Hagrid refused, on my orders."

"What?" Aletha stared at the Headmaster. "Why?"

"My understanding of what occurred this night is imperfect," said Dumbledore slowly, as if he were piecing his thoughts together as he spoke. "But I believe that Voldemort attempted to kill Harry Potter – and failed."

"Failed? He's never failed to kill anyone before – why now?"

"The magic remaining around the house at Godric's Hollow was chaotic, in turmoil. A great force for evil was thwarted by a still greater force for good. At the risk of sounding like a sentimental old fool, I must conclude that it was love – specifically, Lily's love for Harry – which saved his life, and which destroyed Voldemort."

Aletha shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I. Would you like to hear what I have been able to collect, as imperfect as it is?"

"Yes. Please." Facts were always better than suppositions.

"Voldemort entered the house and encountered James. Both of them cast spells, culminating in a spell from Voldemort which seems to have ended the battle. Nothing I recognize, which leads me to believe he may have invented it himself."

Aletha winced. Anything Lord Voldemort invented for use against his enemies would be painful, humiliating, deadly, or all three.

"Voldemort then proceeded upstairs, where he tried to keep Lily out of his way by binding her against a wall, while he did whatever he intended to do to Harry. However, the binding magic was broken from within, presumably by Lily. There was also the pattern of an interrupted spell, similar to or the same as the one used on James, which Lily probably took on herself, seeing that it was intended for Harry."

"How could you tell that?" Aletha was morbidly fascinated. Dumbledore knew things about magic she hadn't even known it was possible to know.

"A spell which strikes the one it was intended for leaves different magical traces behind than one which strikes by accident or is intercepted. That spell, whatever it was, was the second-to-last piece of intentional magic worked in that house tonight."

"What was the last?"

"The Killing Curse."

Aletha realized she was twisting her wedding ring on her finger and firmly settled her hands in her lap. _Harry's not dead,_ she reminded herself. _Harry's alive. _

"It appears to have rebounded from Harry and struck Voldemort. Why, we cannot be sure. I believe it has something to do with Lily's sacrifice. But whyever it happened, the outcome was the same. Harry was unharmed, except for a cut on his forehead. Voldemort was... vanquished."

"Vanquished? Not killed?"

Dumbledore sighed. "There are spells which prolong life, delaying death. Some of them can be used by wizards or witches with scruples. Some cannot. Voldemort uses them all, indiscriminately, and searches constantly for new ones. He wishes, in the end, to conquer death, to live forever. The magics he has performed so far have given him, if not yet immunity to death, shall we say a certain resistance to it. I do not believe that he is dead."

"Too bad," said Aletha heartily. "But he's gone."

"For the moment, yes."

"May it be a long moment."

"Indeed."

Suddenly, the reality of what had happened only a few short hours ago dropped in on Aletha, and she had to curl her hands into balls and close her eyes, trying to keep hold of her composure.

_I said I'd do anything to get rid of Voldemort. But not this – not this... James, Lily, why you? _

_But wait, we got off track. Harry. _

"You never really answered my question, Professor. You told me what happened tonight, but not what that has to do with why Sirius and I can't have Harry." _Assuming Sirius isn't a traitor and isn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere..._

"A willing sacrifice of one person for another has a magic of its own. Harry will have some protection from this all his life. Additionally, since his mother's blood, if you will pardon such an expression, bought his life, his mother's blood can continue to protect it. Lily Potter has died, but her sister lives on. In the home of his mother's relations, Harry will be immune to evil such as Voldemort represents."

"You want to send Harry to _Petunia Dursley_?" Aletha was on her feet. "Professor, the woman not six months ago blamed Lily for their parents' deaths, at the top of her voice, at their _funeral!_ She has no shame and no morals where magic is concerned, she'd do anything to keep it away from her family and her so-perfect little Muggle life – how can you be sure she'd even take Harry in?"

"She will," said Dumbledore calmly, not moved in the least by Aletha's outburst. "Antipathy to magic or not, she will not wish to be the cause of her nephew's death. Perhaps, when more of the Death Eaters have been tried and convicted, the danger will subside to a level where Harry may with safety reside elsewhere. For now, his aunt's home remains the safest place for him."

Aletha sank back into her chair, hating the old man's logic but having to concede that it made sense. Harry might not be comfortable or happy with the Dursleys, but at least he would be alive.

"The problem of Harry being, if not solved, temporarily assuaged, let us turn to another." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "I do not wish to make any sort of rash assumption about Sirius. There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this that we simply do not know about. But in order to discover it, we must find Sirius. And my messages to him have gone unanswered."

"I'll help look," said Aletha quickly. "I know all the places he goes – well, most of them, anyway, I'm sure he has one or two he doesn't tell me about."

_And maybe he had more,_ whispered a cynical voice in her mind. _Maybe he had a whole second life he didn't tell you about..._

All the time she was preparing to go hunting for Sirius, the voice kept making comments, and she kept pushing it away.

_Sirius said there wasn't a chance you were the spy. What if that was because he was the spy himself? _

_He didn't want you knowing where the Potters were. Why? So there was no chance you'd be there when his master arrived? _

_He said the spy was clever enough not to take the bait Dumbledore was laying. If he knew about it, why should he take it? _

_You should have known. He's a pureblood, his family's notoriously Dark. Why would you think the apple had fallen far from the tree? He's probably been lying to you all this time, just stringing you along – the Muggleborn wife, the perfect reason for the light side to trust him..._

And over and over, it returned to the three damning facts.

_Sirius was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. _

_The Potters are dead. _

_Sirius has been seen unhurt since their deaths. _

She wouldn't look at what those facts added up to. She refused to. There would be something, some little detail she'd missed, that would explain everything and make it all right – Sirius would laugh at her and remind her of whatever it was she wasn't thinking of, and take her in his arms and kiss her.

And then they would mourn James and Lily together, as they had mourned Remus and Danger, and Evanie. She would support him as he worked to catch the Death Eaters, and when it was safe to do so, they would claim Harry and bring him up as their own, teaching him his parents' names and faces, and what they did for him.

_Maybe the house won't be too empty after all. _

Those were the thoughts that kept her going through hours of fruitless searching. She'd charmed a quill of Sirius' to lead her to him, but time after time it jabbed out a destination on the map she was carrying, only to have it change almost as soon as she got there. It was as if he was deliberately trying to avoid her. It was very frustrating.

She would scold him for it as soon as she found him.

Finally, she was getting close. The sun was up, it was probably about seven-thirty, and she was exhausted.

_Is he ever going to catch it for keeping me out all night, and worried sick about him..._

She walked wearily through an alleyway and stopped dead.

She'd found Sirius.

He was standing directly in front of her, at the end of the street she'd been about to enter, glaring up the street at –

She looked.

_Peter?_

"Too bad you didn't get what you wanted," said Sirius in a conversational snarl. Everyone on the street had turned to watch.

Peter was shaking, his eyes filled with tears. "Lily and James, Sirius!" he cried in a high-pitched, trembling voice, wringing his hands first in front of him, then behind. "How could you?"

"Reach for it, rat," growled Sirius. His left hand flickered in the motion Aletha had seen a million times, on the Auror training ground, in battle, at parties. It was almost faster than the eye could follow.

The street in front of him exploded. Muggles yelled, screamed, dove for cover. Aletha staggered back, shaken, and shielded her head as debris rained down around her.

When she looked up, Sirius was staring at something. She followed his line of sight.

Where Peter had been standing, there was... nothing. A pile of cloth, that was all.

A pile of cloth with dark stains on it.

She could just see, vaguely, through the dust, what had happened to the rest of the street. Muggles were draped across the curbs in bizarre poses, obviously dead. There was a huge crater in the middle of the street, a foul stench was coming from it, it must have cracked the sewer open...

A sound drew her attention back to her husband.

He was laughing. He was standing there, with his wand in his hand, looking at the bloodstained robes that were all that remained of Peter Pettigrew, and he was laughing.

Uncontrollable fury rose in Aletha.

"YOU!" she screamed.

Sirius spun to face her, shock stamped across his features. "Letha – what – this isn't–"

Aletha wasn't listening.

"I_ trusted_ you!" Too furious even to draw her wand, she snatched up a chunk of brick from the ground and hurled it at him. "I _loved_ you! And all the time – _how long,_ Sirius? How long have you been working for _him?_"

"Letha, no – it wasn't–"

"Wasn't you, of _course_ it wasn't, you'd say _anything_ right now! Everything you've ever told me has been a _lie_!" She spread her arms wide. "So go on, do it! Kill me too! Make a clean sweep! You killed Peter, you betrayed James and Lily–"

Something struck her with the force of a physical blow, one more thing to lay at his door, one more betrayal to add to his roll. "You asked me once who could have told Voldemort about Remus and Evanie. Who on this list, you said. I'll tell you who – the first damned person you named! _You!_"

Sirius hadn't moved, he was still standing frozen, his mouth open in shock or denial. She took three furious, deliberate steps towards him and glared at him, wishing, truly wishing, that looks could kill. "I cannot _believe_ I thought I loved you," she spat. "I cannot _believe_ I _married_ you. And I cannot _believe_ that I am _carrying your child!_"

She slapped him across the face, hard, then turned and ran. Popping sounds indicated the arrival of Aurors, Ministry officials, Death Eaters, whoever. She didn't care.

* * *

Sirius didn't protest when the Aurors arrived and bound him, didn't fight when they hauled him back to the Ministry and threw him into one of the holding cells hard enough to bruise where he landed. His emotional buffer had overloaded back on that street, when he realized that Peter had played one final prank, the best of his career, and Wormtail had pulled off some lulus. 

_They'll never believe it wasn't me now. I could swear Peter was the Secret-Keeper till I'm blue in the face, but two of the four people who knew are dead, one's pretending to be, and the last one is me. They'd never believe me, no matter what I did. _

_He turned rat, the bastard. He turned rat and ran, right down into the sewers. He must have cut himself or something, to leave blood on the robes..._

"A finger," he heard someone say around the corner. "We've got a positive ID, it's Pettigrew's..."

_Merlin's beard, he cut his finger off? I didn't think he'd have the guts. That'd leave blood for sure. _

_But why, why, why did Letha have to be there? Why did she have to see that? If I could just have caught her alone and told her the truth – if I had only told her about the swap before we did it – if I had gone home and told her instead of going rat-hunting – _

He groaned. _If, if, if, it won't do me any good now. Nothing will do me any good now. James and Lily are dead, Aletha hates me, Harry – good God, Harry, he's going to grow up with the Muggles, Letha doesn't have any legal claim to him, it was all me! She's not his godmother! _

He rocked back and forth on the floor of the cell, head in his arms, moaning. _This is all my fault..._

He hardly noticed when they came in and pulled him to his feet. He noticed mostly because he started to feel cold. Then he heard the rasping breaths, and saw the shadows on the floor, two silhouettes wearing hooded cloaks...

_Go ahead. Take me to Azkaban. See if I care. _He raised his chin defiantly. _It can't possibly be any worse than this. _

When the dementors took hold of him, he realized he was wrong.

"_I cannot _believe_ I thought I loved you."_ Her voice played back in his head, like a bad tape on an endless loop. _"I cannot _believe_ I _married_ you. And I cannot _believe_ that I am _carrying your child!_"_

* * *

They were delighted. A new one had come, a strong one. They gathered about his enclosure, feeding on his energy and his remembrances. The best ones involved a dark female and a small one. They set about taking those. 

The only thing better would be to take his essence. To take it and make it one of them, for that was how they reproduced, by slowly transforming the spirit they took within themselves, nourishing it with despair and horror, until it awoke and came forth as another like them, with an unslakable thirst for light and life, and an endless supply of souled creatures from which to draw it.

Or, at least, that was how it should be.

* * *

Sirius did not know that the weakness overtaking him and the sick chill all through his body was due to the gathering of dementors outside his cell. He only knew a few things, and they filled him with bleak despair. 

James and Lily were dead.

Harry would be raised by magic-hating Muggles.

Peter was a traitor.

Letha hated him.

His child would grow up despising the name he, or she, bore.

And nothing was ever going to get any better.

He was alone.

* * *

With the last of her strength, Aletha composed herself enough to find a subway station, buy a ticket, get on the correct train, and get off at the proper stop. She remembered almost nothing else until she was on her own front stoop. 

She shut the door behind her, walked the five steps to the large armchair, and fell into it.

"No," she moaned, wrapping her arms around herself. "No, no, no, no..."

But no one was there to hear her. No one was there to care. She could stay in this chair and starve to death, or cry until she dried up and blew away.

But some innate sense of responsibility to her child drove her, at various times during that day, to get up and eat, or drink, or use the bathroom.

Otherwise, she crouched in the chair, sobbing and howling in grief, unable to summon the strength or resolve to do anything else.

James and Lily and Peter were dead.

Harry was lost to her forever, since she had no claim to him, as only a friend of the family, that would override his aunt's right to keep him.

Sirius was a traitor, her marriage a sham and a lie.

The coming child would never know a father, except as a distant figure of shame.

She was alone.

* * *

(A/N: Phew. Everyone all angst-ed out now? This is the lowest point of the story – promise! It goes uphill from here! I know, I know, it can't very well go downhill, can it... 

I'm very pleased. A few people have guessed bits and pieces of how the story will turn out, but no one has guessed my major (for lack of a better word) plot device, the discovery on which the whole story hinges, the seminal idea for this fic! I can't wait to hear (er, read) the gasps when I unveil it!

Next chapter, I promise, some of the characters you're all missing so... notice, please, I'm not saying you'll see them _alive_. Might be memories, or flashbacks, like Michelle (Neurotica) loves so much. And yes, as I said, next chapter the story starts turning around. So give me lots of review love, so that I can get this to a slightly happier place tomorrow before we all stop reading fan fiction for the real deal – TWO MORE DAYS! YIPPEE!)


	6. Dreaming of You

(A/N: As promised, a little more happiness, and plenty of those missing characters...)

* * *

Chapter 6: Dreaming of You

"Leeta!"

Aletha knelt down to receive an armful of excited one-year-old. "Hello, Neenie," she said fondly, hugging the girl tightly. "Look at you, you're so big!"

Hermione giggled bashfully and put her thumb in her mouth for a moment, then pulled it back out. "Leeta, Dada," she said, tugging at Aletha's robes. "Dada."

"You want me to take you to your Daddy?"

Hermione nodded.

"Is he that way?" She pointed the way the girl had been tugging her.

Another nod.

"All right, come here, you little monster." She scooped Hermione up, making her giggle again, and set off.

_This really isn't possible, you know,_ said some rational corner of her mind. _Hermione's been missing for months. She wasn't even one, or walking reliably, when you saw her last. And her father is dead. _

But the child in her arms felt warm and real, and Aletha was willing to accept anything happy at the moment, even if it was an impossible dream of what might have been.

_Dream. That's what this is. Just a dream. I remember falling asleep. _

_But it's a nice one, since it has my little Neenie in it... _

She was walking across an endless flat plain with mists swirling around her. Hermione was looking around with wide eyes, thumb in her mouth again.

A figure appeared out of the mists ahead. Aletha squinted. _Who is that?_

"Dada!" cried Hermione. "Dada, Dada!" She wiggled, and Aletha set her down on her feet, watching her take off running, a bit unsteadily, but reach the figure without falling. The man scooped her up and twirled her around, laughing, and Aletha tensed at the familiar sound.

_This has just gone to another level of impossible..._

"Letha, I'm so glad you're here," said Remus Lupin, coming forward with Hermione balanced on his left hip and his right hand held out.

She hesitated a moment, then took it. It, too, felt entirely real, warm and strong and with a wand callus across the palm. But Remus himself didn't look quite as she remembered him, she noticed. He looked a bit older than he did in their photographs...

_Of course he does. Those pictures are all two years old. _

"Something wrong?" inquired Remus, and she realized she hadn't let go of his hand.

"No – yes!" She pulled back, suddenly recalling why all the pictures she had of Remus were two years old. "You're _dead!_"

Remus frowned, then shifted Hermione to his other hip and slid two fingers along his neck. "That's odd," he said. "I seem to have a pulse."

Aletha fought briefly with laughter and lost. Remus' style of humor had always appealed to her greatly. He was far more subtle than James or Sirius...

_James. Sirius._

Her laughter choked off.

"What is it?" said Remus quietly. "Is it about James and Lily?"

"You know, then?"

"Yes." Remus looked around at their surroundings. "Here, let's go somewhere a little more comfortable..."

Abruptly they were in a room, a neatly furnished living or play room, though not any place that Aletha recognized. Remus set Hermione down, and the little girl ran immediately to the toy chest in the corner and started digging through it. He led Aletha gently to one of the couches and sat down next to her, then embraced her.

His arms around her sent shivers all through her. She hadn't touched or been touched by anyone since that morning, when she had struck Sirius...

And then she was bawling on Remus' shoulder, sobbing so hard she knew she'd have no voice left tomorrow, but this crying was different than what she'd spent all day doing. That crying had been like trying to climb up a magical staircase oriented for down. You could work at it all you liked, but you ended up exactly where you'd started. This crying was going to get her somewhere. She didn't know where, but anywhere had to be better than where she was.

Remus didn't try to say or do anything until the worst of it was over. He just held her, as he might have held a sister or a cousin, and let her get it all out. But he wasn't ignoring her, far from it; just about the time when she lifted her head and started looking for a handkerchief, one appeared level with her nose, and when she took it and sat up to use it, Remus adjusted his own position to compensate, sitting back on the couch.

"Better?" he asked politely when she had wiped her eyes and blown her nose.

"Yes." Aletha took a deep breath, feeling the shudders which were still shaking her begin to subside. "Yes. Much."

"Then may I dare to congratulate you?" His eyes flickered down to her midriff, then back to her face.

"You know about that too?"

"Yes. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how, though."

"Let me guess. Angels know everything?"

Remus' wry grin appeared. "Not quite. But that'll do."

Aletha sighed again. "I don't know, Remus. I just don't know. What kind of life will I be able to offer this child? And will I ever be able to look at her, him, whatever, without seeing Sirius?"

Remus sat up a little straighter, and Aletha sensed a change in his demeanor. "Yes. About Sirius. I'd hoped you might want to talk about him."

"What's to talk about?" Aletha knew she sounded bitter, and didn't care – she _was._ "He never was what I thought he was. What any of us thought he was. He was probably chosen for the role as a baby, trained up to act the part of the brave rebel, the one who dared to be good, so that we'd all like him and trust him. I was a prop, the undesirable Muggleborn girlfriend, to make it even more plausible. And then, when his master said the word, he came running home. And he took James and Lily, and Peter and a bunch of Muggles, with him."

"And your heart."

"Yes. And my heart."

Remus looked around the room, at Hermione, playing with blocks in the opposite corner, then back at Aletha. He seemed to be getting ready to speak, but he didn't. It was as if –

"Do you know something I don't?"

"Yes."

"Tell me. Please."

Remus held up a hand. "Hear me out first?"

Aletha nodded, hope suddenly reawakened against all odds.

"I shouldn't just tell you what I know. It's very hard to believe, and there's no proof for it. Besides, it would be a bad idea for other reasons that I'm afraid I can't tell you about. But there is another way."

"Twenty Questions?"

"Something like that. I'll give you all the help I can, but there are some leaps you're going to have to make on your own."

"All right. Is what you know about Sirius?"

"Yes. Very much."

All the bitterness and pain she'd been feeling all day spilled into her words. "Why did he do it?"

"Wrong question."

"What?" Aletha stared at Remus, confused. "Why?"

"You're starting from an incorrect assumption."

"An incorrect assumption," Aletha repeated. "All right, let me think."

_What am I assuming when I ask why Sirius did it?_

_Well, for one thing..._

"Did Sirius do it?"

"Do what?"

Aletha clamped down on her irritation, reminding herself that Remus wouldn't do this just to annoy her, that there had to be a reason – ghosts, or angels, or whatever he was probably couldn't tell people things directly...

"Did Sirius betray James and Lily to Voldemort?"

"No."

_Well, that was direct. _

_And VERY nice to hear. _

_But impossible. _

"Then why are they dead?"

"Because they were betrayed."

"But you just said Sirius didn't betray them!"

"Yes, I did."

_All right. They were betrayed, we knew that already, but Sirius didn't betray them. _She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. _Betrayed, but not by Sirius. Not by Sirius..._

_Then by whom?_

She looked back at Remus eagerly. "Who betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort?"

"Their Secret-Keeper."

"But Sirius was their Secret-Keeper!"

Remus looked at the opposite corner of the room and whistled a few notes of something melancholy-sounding.

"Wasn't he?"

"Is that a question?"

"Yes."

"No."

It took Aletha a moment to sort through the conversation and figure out what Remus was answering. "Sirius wasn't their Secret-Keeper?"

"I hate questions like that," said Remus with a half-smile. "I never know whether to say yes or no."

Aletha interpreted this as a request to rephrase the question. "Was Sirius the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"No, he was not."

"Then who was?"

Remus shot her an apologetic look.

"All right. But it wasn't Sirius."

"No, it wasn't Sirius."

Aletha felt muscles she hadn't even known were tense relax. She wanted to cry for joy, but she was still too worn out from her monster crying jag of a few minutes before. It would have to wait.

_Besides, there's still more things I need to ask about. _

"Why did Sirius kill Peter? And all those Muggles?"

Remus looked apologetic again. "Er, this could be a problem."

"You can't answer, I understand."

"No, it's not that. I'd tell you if I knew. But I honestly don't know at the moment. Tell me this, are you in any hurry?"

Aletha snorted a humorless laugh. "Hurry? To do what, or go where? My life looks more like a nightmare right now – this is the nicest place I've been in a while. No, I'm in no hurry."

"Then would you be willing to stay here for a little while, maybe play with Hermione? I was just going to meet with someone about what happened in London this morning. I'll be back as soon as I can; if you need anything, just say it aloud and it should show up within a few minutes."

"All right. But before you go..."

"Yes?"

"Why is Hermione with you? And calling you 'Dada'? I would have thought she'd have ended up with her real parents when she..." She couldn't say it.

Remus smiled fondly at the girl. "A real sweetheart, isn't she? Her real parents are, shall we say, unavailable at the moment. Danger and I are the closest available substitutes."

"So Danger is with you."

"Yes – in fact, that's who I'm going to see. Would you like to see her? We can come back here when we're done."

"I don't care what my mum used to say about there being no stupid questions, that was one – yes, of course I want to see her!"

"And she'll be over the moon to see you. We shouldn't be too long. See you in a few minutes, then." He gave her a casual goodbye hug, then stood up and walked nonchalantly through the wall.

_As if I needed more reminders that this place isn't normal._

"Leeta?" asked a small voice by her leg, and Aletha gladly abandoned thoughts of normality to play with the little girl she'd thought she would never see again.

* * *

"Sirius!"

Sirius ran across a flat and endless expanse, not daring to look back. He knew what he'd see if he did. James and Lily, looking like avenging angels.

Suddenly they were in front of him. Sirius stumbled back.

"You betrayed us," accused James. "You betrayed us to Voldemort."

"You left my son to grow up with Muggles," said Lily hotly. "They hate magic and everything it stands for – what do you think they'll do to him?"

"But, it wasn't me," Sirius stammered. "Peter, it was Peter..."

"And who suggested to us that we change Secret-Keepers?" asked James, a parody of his wicked grin distorting his face. "Where did your sympathies really lie, Padfoot?"

"I died hoping Peter was safe," came a new voice from behind him. Sirius whirled. Evanie was standing there, her eyes cold and dead, new scars on her face, from her own claws, Sirius knew. "If you had just noticed how strangely he was acting, you could have stopped all this."

"You didn't even try to save us," said Remus, stepping out from behind Evanie. His face, too, was more scarred than it had been, his clothes tattered and wrinkled, his expression one of loathing. "We waited for you, we told each other that you would come. But you never did."

"And what do you think happened to me?" Danger appeared between the two groups, her face pale as the moon, her clothes tattered and covered in blood, gaping wounds apparent beneath them. "Peter was the smart one. He made a deal and lived. I was brave and stupid. Do you know how long one unprotected human survives in a cage with two werewolves?"

Sirius turned away from her, only to meet the accusing looks of the others, who were closing in, leaving him nowhere to run, nowhere to hide – this was torture beyond anything Death Eaters could do, torture of the mind, invading even into his sleep, because he had to be dreaming, having a nightmare, and only one piece was missing to make it the worst he had ever had...

"I cannot believe I thought you loved me."

_There it is. _

Sirius had to look up, that voice compelled him, even as it repulsed. Aletha was sneering at him. "You're just like all the others. All those cold, heartless purebloods, making their status marriages. You married me because a Muggleborn wife would give your little light side act some credence. I should have seen it coming. I should have known you'd return to the way you grew up. Like a dog returns to its vomit."

Sirius wasn't thinking clearly, wasn't really thinking at all, but the word "dog" triggered something in him, something he'd almost forgotten about. He transformed into the huge, shaggy black dog known as Padfoot, and Padfoot knew exactly what to do about the anger and sorrow and horror all bottled up inside him, and the added fear and shame that the phantoms were inducing.

He threw back his head and howled.

There was an answering howl from nearby.

The people standing around him all turned to look at where the second howl had come from, and a moment later were fleeing for their lives, vanishing into the mists, as a long-furred wolf snarled at them, snapping and slashing with her claws –

_Claws?_

He took another look. Blunt snout, tufted tail – she was a werewolf, but not one he knew. Evanie in her wolf form was much shorter-furred than this, and built differently, a bit stockier than this graceful creature.

The last of Sirius' tormentors were gone. The werewolf howled again, this time in triumph, and Sirius joined his voice to hers, wishing he knew her name so he could thank her.

The wolf reared onto her hind legs and became human, and Sirius stared.

He did know her name.

Although he'd never expected to see her again.

"Sirius?" Danger dropped to one knee beside him. "You can come out now. They won't come back while I'm here."

Feeling almost timid, Sirius changed back to human, still staring at her. She looked much as she had when he'd seen her last, a bit older perhaps, but that was to be expected, since it had been two years. Her robes were well-worn but clean and whole, and her face was unbloodied, only anxious as she looked at him.

"What are you, my guardian angel?"

Danger laughed. "If you like. No wings, though. And no halo."

Sirius snorted. "You don't deserve one anyway."

"Damn straight."

_I didn't think angels were allowed to swear..._

_Never mind. _

"So when did you become a werewolf?"

"What? Oh, that – I'm not. I just look like one. It's a really long story, and not very interesting, and we have more important things to discuss."

"Like what?" Sirius considered standing up, but wasn't sure his legs would hold him yet.

"Like you."

Sirius looked at her. Her eyes seemed to be searching his face for something. He sighed, looking away. "You want to know why I betrayed Lily and James?"

"No."

"No?" Sirius' head whipped around in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because I know you didn't."

He almost stopped breathing. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Then – do you know who did?"

"It was Peter, wasn't it? Unless something's changed that I didn't know about..."

Sirius lunged at her and snatched her into his arms, hugging her ruthlessly. "Thank you," he mumbled into her hair. "Thank you, thank you, you don't know what it means to me..."

"To have someone believe what sounds like an impossible story?" Danger hugged him back, and rubbed her cheek against his, as one wolf might do to another. "Trust me, I know."

Grief rushed over Sirius now, the grief he had been fighting off all day. In Azkaban, sinking into the emotion might be fatal, since the dementors would never let him come up again. But here, wherever here might be, in the arms of a friend, someone who believed him, he could safely cry for James and Lily.

"What I do want to know," said Danger quietly some time later, when Sirius had gotten into the sniffling stage, "is what happened this morning with Peter. It can't have been what it looked like."

Sirius wiped his eyes with the handkerchief she'd lent him. "What did it look like?"

"It looked like you killing Peter, and a dozen Muggles with him. The first part, I can understand – I want to kill him myself for what he did, and you, of anyone I know, might be willing to go through with it. But you are not ruthless, or wanton, or anything else they're calling you in the newspapers. I don't think that even Peter's betrayal would put you so much out of yourself that you would kill a dozen innocent people just to get at him."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," said Sirius dryly. "Now we just have to convince the rest of the world."

"So what did happen? I know Peter's not dead, I've seen him since, and as I said, I know what you're supposed to have done. What actually happened?"

"Hold on a second," said another voice, forestalling Sirius' explanation.

He looked up eagerly. "Moony!"

"Hey, Padfoot," said Remus, giving Sirius a hand to help him up and returning Sirius' hug heartily. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Sirius nodded as Danger stood up behind him. "So you want to hear this too?" he asked.

"Me and someone else. I'm glad I caught you, she ought to hear this straight from you."

_She? _

_Oh, no..._

Remus didn't do anything obvious that Sirius could see, like snapping his fingers or waving a hand, but they were abruptly somewhere else. A small, cozy room, set up like a child's playroom. And it had a child in it.

"Pa-fuh!" Hermione Granger jumped up and ran to him, a huge smile on her face. Sirius scooped her up and hugged her, marveling at how much she'd grown in just the two months since he'd seen her last – she hadn't even been able to walk well then, and she had just barely begun to say "Mama" and "Dada" and "Leeta"...

Motion brought Sirius' eyes back to the corner where Hermione had been. Aletha was slowly standing up, using the wall behind her for balance, meeting his gaze steadily.

He squatted to set Hermione on the floor, never taking his eyes from Aletha's.

She broke the silence first, after they had both been standing for a long moment. "Were you James and Lily's Secret-Keeper?"

"No."

"Who was, then?"

"Peter."

Her lips formed the name silently. "When did you change?"

"At the last minute. Barely a day before Lily did the charm."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"No."

"_WHY THE HELL NOT?_"

The shout caught him entirely by surprise, and actually made him take a step backwards.

Aletha's face showed an odd mixture of amusement, amazement, and anger. "Do you have _any_ idea how much grief you could have saved everyone, _including _yourself, if you had just seen fit to tell _one other person_ about this? Someone like _me_, maybe, since you yourself said there was no chance of my being the spy, and since I'm your bloody _wife?_"

_What the hell. Might as well play it up a little._ Sirius hung his head. "I didn't want you to get hurt," he confessed in a mumble. "If you didn't know, you couldn't tell anyone, so they wouldn't hurt you."

"You thought they wouldn't torture me because I didn't know anything?" Aletha had her hands on her hips. "It's never stopped them before. And your brilliant little plan so that I wouldn't get hurt just caused me to have the worst day of my life, so thank you very much for that."

"Hey, I'm not exactly on a picnic here, either!" protested Sirius, stung. "I'm in effing Azkaban!"

"And it's your own fault, too! You could have told me – you could have told _Dumbledore_ what you were going to do, and then maybe James and Lily would still be dead, but you wouldn't be in prison with no way to get out!"

"Thank you for reminding me, you're so supportive."

"A-_hem_."

They both looked around. Danger was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with just a hint of a sardonic smile on her face. "If you're both quite finished," she drawled, "I think there's an explanation coming, about this morning..."

"Yes, what the hell was that?" Aletha's voice pulled Sirius' attention back to her. "Even if Peter was a traitor, that's no reason to kill a lot of innocent Muggles and _laugh_ about it!"

"I wasn't laughing because of that!"

"Then why were you laughing?"

"Because Peter's not dead!"

Three seconds of silence.

"Are you telling me you _missed_?" said Aletha in a tone of total disbelief.

Sirius couldn't help himself. He cracked up, and couldn't stop laughing until a squeaky toy hit him in the side of the head.

"Enough," said Remus when he looked around. "Just tell us what happened." But his friend had a trace of a smile on his face. The funny side of even the worst situation was seldom lost on Remus.

Sirius took a few deep breaths, calming himself down. "I'd been looking for Peter all night," he began. "I'd just found him. But he was ready for me. He had his wand behind his back, must have had it stuck under his belt or something – you remember, Letha, he had his hands behind his back..."

Aletha nodded slowly.

"He cut off his own finger, to leave it for them to find, and to leave blood on his robes. He blew the street up behind him. And then he transformed. Somewhere in England, there is a rat with a missing toe on its front paw and a lot of deaths to answer for."

"But – how?" Aletha looked confused. "Didn't you tell me once that Peter could never transform when he was under stress?"

"He was probably thinking about his reward," said Remus, now sitting in one of the armchairs with Hermione walking around and around it, one hand on it for support.

"Reward?" asked Sirius, now totally confused. Then he recalled the conclusion he'd come to at Peter's flat. "Do you mean Evanie?"

"You did figure it out!" Danger grinned. "I thought you might."

"What does Evanie have to do with this?" asked Aletha. "Isn't she dead?"

Remus shook his head. "The Death Eaters have been using her as leverage against Peter," he said. "Demanding information in return for her continued safety. When Voldemort decided to move on the prophecy, he offered Peter a deal. Evanie would be returned to him, alive, sane, and unhurt, if he would hand over the Potters."

"And by then, he was in too deep to back out anyway," added Danger. "So he did it."

"Obviously," said Sirius angrily. "And did they follow through?"

"Actually, yes," said Remus. "As far as we know. We saw their meeting..."

"And was that ever an emotional scene." Danger made a small gagging noise. "I would have been a lot more appreciative if I hadn't known what he did to lead up to it."

"And then they left together," finished Remus. "And the Death Eaters swore not to harm either of them on their way home."

"But there's bound to have been a trick to it, there's always a trick to it." Danger stared into the air as if looking for the trick there. "Or maybe it's just that Evanie's almost certainly going to repudiate Peter after she finds out what he did." She sighed. "If we're lucky, he'll get an attack of conscience after that and turn himself in."

"And if we're not lucky?" asked Aletha quietly.

"You wake up," said Remus. "And spend a long time wondering if this dream was true or not."

"And I wake up," said Sirius grimly. "In Azkaban."

"And without Peter, there's no good way to prove you didn't do it." Aletha hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry for what I said," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. I was stupid not to tell you." Sirius returned her hug, then, feeling bold, brought one hand around to her front, to run it over her belly. "Boy or girl, d'you think?"

"Don't know. But whichever it is, he or she is going to have a father, do you understand me, Sirius Black? I am not raising this child alone!"

"Yes, ma'am." Sirius saluted.

Remus chuckled. "Welcome to the club, brother. We're whipped and proud of it."

Danger smacked him.

"See?"

Suddenly, Danger's pose changed, as if she were listening to something only she could hear. "Letha, you have to go. Quickly. You have to wake up, something's happening – I'm sorry this couldn't be longer, but this is important, whatever it is–"

"How do I get back?" Aletha asked, accepting Danger's quick hug, and Remus' after her.

"Just go through this." Danger waved, creating what looked like a portal in the wall.

Aletha stepped up to it, then looked back at Sirius. "See you soon," she said, then stepped through and was gone.

Sirius exhaled slowly. "Now what?" he asked, looking back at his friends.

"Now, we indulge in an archaic pastime known as 'hanging around'," said Remus. "While you catch us up on everything that hasn't been in those letters of yours."

"My letters?" Sirius stared. "You've been getting my letters?"

Remus nodded, stretching out his legs so that Hermione could sit on them and be bounced up and down. "Mine are from you. Letha writes to Danger."

"Very nice of you, by the way," added Danger. "It's almost as good as being there ourselves. Well, not really, but you know what I mean."

"Yes – but how are you getting them?"

"Once again, long story," said Danger. "And not one we should waste tonight on, because I'm not sure we'll be able to do this again. So, why don't we get the boys in here and have a good old-fashioned family evening?"

"Boys?"

Remus did wave his hand this time, and a door appeared in the far wall that hadn't been there before. "Go on," he said, motioning to it. "He belongs to you now, after all."

Sirius didn't remember crossing the room, or opening the door, or anything until he was kneeling in the doorway, holding Harry Potter in his arms.

"Hi there, Greeneyes," he said, picking the boy up and willing his voice not to shake. "Told you I'd be back soon, didn't I?"

"Pa-fuh," said Harry happily, hugging him.

Sirius looked at the other little boy in the room, who was regarding him curiously, and began to laugh.

_I guess what you can't have in life, you get when you go to heaven..._

* * *

Aletha came awake with a start. Someone was calling her name.

She rubbed her eyes and listened. It was coming from the music room.

_The Floo! I must have a firecall!_

She hurried back through the hallway and stopped in front of the fireplace. "Professor," she said in surprise.

"Aletha, I must ask you to come to Hogwarts immediately." Dumbledore's face was a mixture of grave and astonished.

Aletha repressed a snide, _Not again,_ and merely nodded. "Right away, sir."

Dumbledore's head vanished, and Aletha wasted no time. In a few moments, she was in his office, dusting soot off herself.

"When I returned to Hogwarts this evening, I walked up from Hogsmeade as I often do," said Dumbledore, escorting her down the staircase. "On the front steps of the castle, I found what appeared to be an injured animal."

"And you want me to take care of it?" Aletha frowned. "Wait. 'Appeared to be'?"

"I touched the creature, trying to determine if it were alive or dead. When I did, a voice spoke inside my mind. A voice I had never thought to hear again. And she asked for you."

They had arrived at the hospital wing. Dumbledore held the door for Aletha, and she hurried in, feeling a sudden rush of worry and, paradoxically, hope. "Where is she?"

"There." Dumbledore indicated a screened-off bed almost directly beside the door.

Aletha stepped quickly between the screens and went immediately to her knees, placing her hand on the head of the animal lying on the bed.

**Letha...**

The voice was tentative and sad, not to mention in her mind instead of her ears, and she hadn't heard it for two years. But she couldn't mistake it.

In wolf form, although it wasn't a full moon, and with human mind apparently intact, Evanie Pettigrew was lying in front of her.

* * *

(A/N: If you had any idea how many times I've rewritten this chapter to avoid giving too much away too soon... and how much I regret leaving it on a cliffy like this... but hey, at least it's not as bad as last night, right? There was a little happiness here, and hints of more to come, so it's not totally sad anymore. There will, of course, be more sadness, primarily next chapter, but after that it's almost all uphill!

Please remember to review! And have a good time reading HBP – I know I will! See you all on July 19th! (Or watch me post at 11:59 on the 18th! No promises, though.) Hugs!)


	7. Careless

(A/N: Character death warning.)

* * *

Chapter 7: Careless

"Evanie," breathed Aletha, leaning down to embrace the wolf, but gently. Her Healer's instincts were clamoring that something wasn't right, but she brushed them aside in the sheer joy of seeing her friend again after two years of thinking her dead.

_Sirius thought Evanie might be alive,_ whispered an inner voice. _He thought Peter might have betrayed the Potters to get her back..._

She banished the voice firmly. The dream had been wonderful, everything she wanted, and that was exactly why she was skeptical of it. Proof or disproof of it would have to wait.

_But Evanie's here, alive..._

"What's been _happening_ to you?" she said finally, sitting back on her heels. "Where have you been? And why are you the wolf? It's not full moon out, and even if it were, you wouldn't have your mind – and why can you talk to me?"

**In order, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know... you get the idea.** Evanie gave a tired little laugh. **But I know what Madam Pomfrey told me. **

"What?"

**It isn't good. You won't like it. **

"Just tell me. Please."

**I'm dying, Letha.**

_No. Please, no... not when I'd just gotten someone back, not when everyone else is gone, please no..._ Irrelevantly, she noticed Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey conversing in whispers in the aisle, casting glances toward the screened bed.

**I've been under a sleeping potion for two years. The Draught of Living Death, Madam Pomfrey says. But the antidote was made wrong, probably on purpose, and it poisoned me. **Evanie's tone was angry, but it was a tired anger, as if she had no energy left to fuel it. **Why couldn't they just have killed me while I was asleep? Do they _like_ seeing people suffer? Don't answer that, I know they do,** she added quickly. **I'd hate them for it, but I don't think I have time. There's so much I have to tell you. **

Aletha summoned her control once again, forcing all her whirlwind of emotions – joy, grief, anger, hope, everything – into the back of her mind, leaving the front clear for thinking. "I'm listening."

**Letha, I know about James and Lily. And it wasn't Sirius who betrayed them. It was Peter. **

She should have been happy to have her dream confirmed, Aletha knew. She should have been ecstatic that her husband, the father of her child, was everything she'd thought he was, that her life was not over. But all she could feel was sorrow and pity. What would it be like to be in Evanie's place, to be dying slowly, possibly in pain, and have to admit that her love _had_ been the one who'd sold out his friends?

**And he did it, or so he claims, for me. To get me back. **Aletha jumped as Evanie's mental voice rose to a shout. **What an _idiot!_ ****He should have _known_, he should have _seen_, there's always a trick to these things... they swore to give me back alive and unhurt, and they did. They let him wake me up himself, gave him the antidote to give to me – he never thought...**

An audible growl, a mental sob, then the voice continued. **We left together. I was confused, I didn't understand why they'd let us go, or why he looked so different. We went out into the woods, found a stream, had a drink. I was horrified when I saw one of his fingers was gone. I made him let me bandage it for him. **

Aletha had one hand wrapped around Evanie's front paw and the other stroking her side near her spine, offering as much comfort as she could. She wished she could wave her wand and say an incantation and make all the troubles go away forever, for all of them.

But magic didn't work like that.

**Then he started to tell me what he'd done. Letha, he was _proud!_ He made it out like he'd done something wonderful and grand to rescue me – and what he did was ruin everyone's lives! **

"Maybe he was hiding from it," suggested Aletha, speaking the first thing that came into her head. "Hiding from the truth of it, because he couldn't face it himself."

**Maybe. He asked me before he started to hear him out, so I did. The first thing he told me was that it had been two years since he'd seen me last. I couldn't believe it, I didn't remember anything – but of course I wouldn't, since I was asleep. But then he got to what had happened to him when we were captured, and how they'd showed me to him, asleep, and told him I was safe for now. As long as he'd tell them a few little things. **

"And then little things turned into big things. And always with the same refrain – 'Well, she's safe for now, but she won't be unless...'" Aletha felt rather as if she'd bitten into an orange when she'd expected an apple. An unpleasant, greasy bitterness seemed to coat her tongue. "And then finally they wanted James and Lily, and Harry."

**And as if just telling it weren't enough, he _bragged_ about it to me. **Evanie's tone shared the bitterness Aletha could taste. **Saying he'd known all along that Voldemort wouldn't last past going to the Potters'. And about how he'd been so clever, setting up that street scene so that everyone would think it had been Sirius. Do you know what he did? **

"Yes, actually I think I do. I was there, I saw it."

**You were? He didn't tell me that, I'm so sorry, it must have been awful for you. **

"Don't worry about me, what about you – what did you do?"

**I lost my temper. I screamed so loud I think everyone heard me for ten miles around. **

"You screamed? How?"

**Oh – I was still in human form then. I didn't change into this until later. But I'll get to that. **

"All right."

**I told him I could never love him again. That I never wanted to see him again, or think about him. That our marriage was over, and that I was going to find the authorities right away and turn him in, and if he was smart he wouldn't try to stop me. **

"What did he do?"

**Nothing. He just sat there and stared at me. Letha, do you really think it's possible he didn't know what I would do when I found out?**

"He may have been deluding himself. Living in a dream." _Men can be very good at that. _

_But then again, so can women. _

**I don't remember much after that. I know I ran away from there, and kept running for what seemed like a long time. I fell a few times, and hurt myself – I was still stiff from sleeping so long, my muscles wouldn't work quite right, and the poison was starting to work – and I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, or anything. After a while I think I fainted. I kept trying to get back up, though. **Evanie's body was tense, as though she were reliving those nightmare hours, betrayed by her husband, exhausted and hurt, and utterly lost. **And then the sun set. **

"The sun set?" _What does that have to do with anything?_

**That was when I changed.** Evanie motioned to herself with the front paw Aletha wasn't holding. **From human, to this. I was scared at first – thought it must be full moon and I hadn't noticed – but the change finished, and I was still thinking like a person. It was easier to walk on four legs than on two, so I could get back up. But I was still exhausted, I still had no idea where I was, and by then the poison was really working on me. So I didn't get very far before I fell again. **

"How did you get here?"

**Truthfully, I don't know. I know what I remember, but it's so strange I think I must have been dreaming. **

"Will you tell me anyway?"

**Two women. They held me like you're doing, and stroked me a few times, and I felt stronger. Then one of them touched my forehead and whispered something, but I didn't hear it. The other one touched my feet and said something like "May you find the road to the safest place." But when I looked around again, they were gone. I got up and started walking, and in just a few minutes I was coming out of the Forbidden Forest. I made it to the front steps of the castle, but I couldn't go any farther. I lay down there and waited, and Professor Dumbledore found me not too long after that, and brought me up here.**

"Where, I have no doubt, Madam Pomfrey was delighted to have to entertain a wolf." Aletha made her tone as light as she could, and rejoiced to hear Evanie laugh a little in return. Her friend might be dying, but there was no reason not to celebrate her return for a moment or two before she had to grieve yet again.

**She was a little shocked at first, but when she touched me I could talk to her, and she didn't fuss any more after that. **

"So you don't know why you can talk like this?"

**No. Not at all.**

"Nor any idea why you changed at sunset?"

**None. Unless...** Evanie's breath caught, and she began to cough hoarsely. The sound brought Madam Pomfrey in a rush. Aletha moved back to make room, her throat beginning to close. She'd heard coughing like that before, and it was never good.

After a moment, Madam Pomfrey stood up from her crouch and motioned Aletha closer. "She's sinking," she said bluntly, but quietly. "May not last more than a few minutes now..."

At that moment, the doors of the hospital wing burst open, and Larry and Patty Mead sprinted in, Dumbledore close behind them. Aletha and Madam Pomfrey quickly got out of the way as the Meads pressed between the screens and embraced their daughter, one from each side, both crying unashamedly. "Dumbledore told us," said Larry through tears. "Oh, little love, I'm so sorry..."

Aletha slipped out of the enclosure after Madam Pomfrey, to give the family time alone together.

Dumbledore was waiting for her, his face grave. "You have heard her story?" he asked.

"Yes." Aletha did not add that she'd already heard it once that night, from a pair of ghosts and the dream-figure of her husband. Even the unflappable Headmaster might have a hard time believing that one.

"It explains a great deal."

"It does."

"Unfortunately, Evanie will not live to tell her story to anyone in a position of authority, nor can she write anything in her current form. And being known friends of Sirius', we are unlikely to be believed."

"But – couldn't we at least cast some doubt? Have an inquiry made, something?" She knew she was grasping at straws, but the look on Sirius' face when he had seen her in the dream kept displaying itself in her mind. Hopeful, she might have called it, or wistful, but there had been other elements too, including one that could only be called hunger. In just that one day, she could tell, he had missed her enough for at least a year.

Just about as much as she had missed him.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But we must not give up hope." Dumbledore laid a hand gently on her arm. "The truth is known now. It will become known more generally in time. How much time remains to be seen." His eyes were speculative. "I believe that I shall be careless today."

Before Aletha could figure out what he meant by this, Patty Mead appeared at the join in the screens. "Letha," she said, her voice roughened by tears. "She's going. She wants you."

Aletha hurried past the older witch and knelt once more by the bed, next to Larry, who was stroking Evanie's head with one hand while holding her paw with the other. She laid a hand on Evanie's flank, heaving with the effort of each breath. "Here I am," she said quietly.

**Letha.** Evanie's voice sounded odd, as if she were fighting to articulate the words properly, or even think of them at all. **The child – Danger's sister – her name, what is it?**

"Hermione? But you never knew her, she was born after you were taken – how did you–"

**She's happy,** Evanie interrupted, speaking more quickly now. **She's happy – with Danger – Remus too – the little one – be patient – AAH!**

A wordless cry, mental and vocal, struck everyone's ears and minds as Evanie convulsed. Aletha pressed her hands down against her friend's side, feeling phantom pain course through her own body in response, wishing only that this agony would end –

And it did. Evanie went limp under her hands, with the finality that meant only one thing.

_It's over now. She can't be hurt again, ever. _

"At least now we know," said Larry, still stroking the soft fur. "Now we know what happened to her. She didn't suffer, except for just today."

"And she can't hurt any more," said Patty, in an uncanny echo of Aletha's own thoughts. "The pain's all over with." She laid her cheek against Evanie's back, then buried her face in the wolf's pelt and began to sob harshly.

Aletha got to her feet, supporting herself on the edge of the bed –

And the world went away.

* * *

Sirius opened his eyes to darkness, and quickly tried to get his mind organized as he felt the chill strike him. 

"_You'll start forgetting this," Remus warned, "probably almost as soon as you wake up. Unless these don't count as good memories."_

_Sirius simply laughed, for once not rising to the bait._

"_I'd tell you to think of happy things, except that it won't do any good," said Danger. "But if you can find something that doesn't count as happy, but won't drive you mad to think about all the time..."_

"_I'm innocent," said Sirius. "Not that it's doing me a rat's arse worth of good."_

_They all laughed at that. "That might well do," said Remus. "If you can concentrate on that, instead of everything else, I think you have a chance."_

"_A chance." Danger scoffed. "He has more than a chance. Sirius can beat anything." She reached up and pulled his face down to hers to kiss him on the cheek. "Just don't forget all about us when you get out of there." _

"_I won't." Sirius looked around the room once more, at the corner where little voices babbled and little hands built towers tall enough to reach the sky, then at his friends' faces, marked by sorrow but also by joy. "I won't."_

But even as he thought of it, the memories began to shred and fade away, leaching from his mind until he was left with only the pallid recollection that he'd had a dream, that it had been a nice dream, that he'd seen Remus and Danger again in it...

The horror of the moment he'd heard they were gone crashed in on him again, he could almost hear Moody's gravelly voice telling him the identities of the captives...

"It wasn't my fault," he whispered. "There was nothing I could have done, I did everything I could to help them, they don't blame me for it, it wasn't my fault..."

The litany helped keep the grief and pain at bay, at least to the point where he could breathe.

He hoped it would keep working. It was all he had.

* * *

Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was less than pleased to receive a visit from Albus Dumbledore that morning. 

He was even less pleased to hear what Dumbledore wanted.

"Question Black? What's to question? More than fifty eyewitnesses, including Black's own wife – whom we can't find at the moment, but will soon enough..."

"When did you try to contact her?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"One of our people firecalled her home around noon yesterday, but there was no answer."

"Had it occurred to you that Mrs. Black might be in some distress, and either unable or unwilling to answer her Floo?"

"Perhaps, perhaps, but that's why we were going to try again later... besides, it doesn't matter, really, does it? Not now that the war's over. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone, we're rounding up his followers without too much trouble – some of the higher-ranked ones may give some difficulty, of course, at least Black came quietly."

"Still, Bartemius, I should like a few words with Sirius. If that can be arranged."

Crouch heaved a sigh. "Well, seeing that it's you, Dumbledore..."

* * *

Aletha came awake with a small start. She was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, still dressed in the robes she'd put on when she'd gotten home from work on Halloween night – or would it be the next morning, she wondered, since she hadn't reached home till after midnight? It didn't matter – in either case, she'd been wearing these same robes for (a glance at her watch confirmed her feeling that she'd been asleep for a while) more than a day and a half, and she hadn't showered in the same amount of time. 

And it had been an eventful time, she had to admit.

She sincerely hoped she'd never have quite so frantic a day again.

Madam Pomfrey let her use the bathroom in the hospital wing to clean up, and the Hogwarts house-elves were quite efficient, so her clothes were clean and dry by the time she was. With that and a good dinner under her belt, since she'd missed breakfast and lunch, she was feeling far more like herself by the time the door opened and Professor Dumbledore walked into the hospital wing, to invite her to his office.

"The war has been more or less declared over," he said as they ascended the spiral staircase. "Some of the Death Eaters are surrendering. Others are claiming they were put under Imperius. Still others have fled, and may be hard to find. However, since there seems to be no more likelihood of mass attacks at the moment, I am disbanding the Order of the Phoenix until and unless reestablishing it seems necessary."

"Because you don't think he's dead."

"Precisely. You realize, of course, Aletha, that this ends any power I might have had over you. I am no longer in any position to give you orders."

Aletha looked sidewise at Dumbledore as he seated himself behind his desk. "But there's something you want me to do," she said. "Isn't there?"

"Astute as ever. And I believe this task may not be altogether distasteful to you. I hesitate to bring up what may be a painful topic, but you were designated the sole heir of David and Rose Granger, were you not, since Sirius has no Muggle identity and therefore could not legally inherit from them?"

"That's right."

"They left you everything they owned. Including their house, number seventeen, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging in Surrey."

Aletha nodded.

"I mentioned to you that I was returning to the castle when I discovered Evanie on the front steps. What I did not tell you is where I had been. I was making certain that Harry Potter arrived safely at the home of his aunt and uncle, which he did. Nor did I tell you their direction. Vernon and Petunia Dursley live at number four, Privet Drive."

Aletha smiled, suddenly seeing where this was going. "In Little Whinging, in Surrey?"

"Indeed."

"And you feel it might be prudent to have someone nearby. Someone to keep an eye on things, just to make sure that nothing gets out of hand."

"Precisely. A young widow, left pregnant by her recently deceased husband, would fit the bill nicely, I think. But suburban life can be dangerous. So I would advise this young widow to acquire some form of protection. Perhaps a dog."

Aletha's eyebrows felt as if they were in danger of merging with her hair. She had been under the impression that Dumbledore was unaware of the Marauders' Animagus abilities.

"Evanie explained to me," said Dumbledore, seeing her confusion. "By way of telling me how Peter escaped from Sirius. I am quite impressed, not only that they managed such transformations, but that they kept it secret from me."

"I think they thought your legendary tolerance of rule-breaking wouldn't extend to actual laws." Aletha chuckled, then frowned. "But wait – how..." She couldn't think of how to phrase it.

"How shall you acquire the type of dog you wish?" Dumbledore finished for her, sighing dramatically. "Aletha, I am afraid I was terribly careless today. I shall be roundly castigated for it, I'm sure, but such is the price of carelessness. The _Daily Prophet_, of course, was delighted to hear of it." He slid a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ across his desk to her. "Only because I am sure you will not laugh at an old man's folly."

Aletha thought her eyebrows ought to be paying her hair rent as she scrutinized the front page.

_**SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES!**_

_**Overpowers Albus Dumbledore, Aurors**_

_Public urged to be on their guard_

"Sirius did not overpower you," she said surely, lowering the paper. "I don't think anyone could."

"Ah, but he did," lamented Dumbledore, in such a serious tone that anyone who couldn't see his eyes, twinkling more than usual, would have thought he meant it. "I looked into his eyes, scrutinized his thoughts most carefully, and discovered the awful truth about his wickedness. Unfortunately, use of Legilimency weakened me momentarily, and Sirius took advantage of this, and of the fact that I had brought his wand with me to our session together, in order to break through his lies by demonstrating that he had cast the curses, you see. He knocked me to the floor, Stunned me with my own wand, took his from my possession, and left the room, Stunning both Aurors who were guarding us."

Aletha's expression might have been interpreted by that same oblivious observer as pained, but that was only because she was trying so very hard not to laugh. "And you have no idea where he went, of course," she was able to say after a few moments.

"None whatsoever." Dumbledore's expression was nicely bland. "However, if the young widow we were speaking of a few moments ago will present herself at the Little Whinging chapter of Animal Control in a day or two, which time will likely be needed for her to move into her new home, I believe she will find quite what she is looking for there."

* * *

"So how was your day, dear?" asked Vernon Dursley over the dinner table the next Monday. 

"Fine, just fine – oh, be quiet," snapped Petunia to her nephew, who was whimpering and reaching towards the table. "You've had a helping of everything, that's quite enough. Would my ickle Duddykins like some more potatoes? Would he? Would he? Yes, he would!" She cooed nonsense at Dudley while dropping a large spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his high chair tray.

Vernon nodded in satisfaction as his son tucked in with a will. "Got a good appetite, this one. He'll grow up strong, mark my words."

"Oh, yes, Vernon, I meant to tell you – we have a new neighbor, in the Grangers' old place. Young black woman, seems to live alone. I watched her moving in, there was a couple helping her, man and woman, but they left together afterwards."

Vernon snorted. "Divorced, probably. It's a scandal, all these women thinking they can go it alone, without a man to help them. Disgraceful."

"We must have her over for dinner, though, before the Harrisons do... we wouldn't want to seem unfriendly to her."

"If you think so, Petunia, darling..."

Petunia screamed as the bowl of baby carrots skidded across the table towards Harry, who was reaching for them, and fell off the edge, shattering on the floor.

"Let me handle it," said Vernon, standing up. "You just deal with the mess and Dudders." Dudley and Harry were both crying, Dudley because he'd been startled by the noise, Harry because the food he wanted had smashed on the ground.

"I'll do that." Petunia bent down, starting to gather the pieces of ceramic together, so that she didn't have to watch her husband carry her screaming nephew (at arm's length, as if he might be contaminated) down the hallway and plop him in the crib in the cupboard under the stairs, shut the door, and come back to the table as if nothing had happened.

Still, Petunia had not forgotten what she had been talking about. And so, a few days later, Aletha Black came to dinner at number four, Privet Drive.

She'd been a friend of the Grangers' grown daughter, she explained, and the closest thing the Grangers had left to family in the world when said daughter had died, so she'd inherited the house in August, and come there now to escape unhappy memories.

"I was married until just recently," she said. "My husband was a police officer, he was killed in the line of duty a few weeks ago." She smiled bravely. "But he left me with a remembrance. I'm due in June."

Petunia exclaimed and congratulated her, Vernon raised his glass politely. Dudley ignored the adults in favor of eating. Harry was looking at the woman with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Your little boys are darling," Mrs. Black said, looking at them. "Are they twins? They're so different..."

"No, only the blond one is ours," said Petunia quickly. "The other is my sister's boy, she's recently died, we've taken him in."

"Very decent of you. If you ever need a babysitter, I love children, and I wouldn't charge you anything – call it a favor for a neighbor..."

If there was anything the Dursleys couldn't resist, it was getting something for free.

Although getting the contaminating magical child out of their house, even temporarily, ran a close second.

Mrs. Black had just endeared herself to them forever.

Even if she did have a dog.

"He's very well trained," she promised. "He'll stay in my yard, and he won't bother you if you have to come over for some reason. He's a good boy, my Padfoot."

"Pa-fuh?" said Harry. Everyone looked at him.

"Did he just say your dog's name?" asked Vernon, brow furrowed in suspicion.

"I'm not sure." Mrs. Black, looking flustered, was fumbling in her purse beneath the table.

"Pa-fuh!" Harry repeated, louder.

"He did," said Petunia. "I'm sure he did – what's going on here?"

Harry was pounding on his high chair tray now, looking like he was about to cry. "PA-FUH, PA-FUH!"

Mrs. Black found what she was looking for and muttered something. Harry abruptly stopped what he was doing, looking confused.

"Children this age often repeat what they hear," she said, looking up. "I recall a friend of mine had difficulty when her little one started repeating things she shouldn't have been – only she heard them wrongly. The one that tipped the mother off was 'Damage'."

"Damage?" repeated Petunia blankly. "Damage?"

Vernon suddenly guffawed. "Of course! 'Damage'! I like that!"

The visit, which had been in danger of foundering, prospered from that point on, and culminated with Mrs. Black asking if she could take Harry over to her house for a little while, just so he could see it and start getting to know it, meet her dog and so on.

The Dursleys granted permission gladly.

* * *

Aletha shut the front door behind her and let out a sigh of relief. "I'm home," she called. "Plus one." 

Sirius came bounding down the hall and changed in mid-leap, making Harry stare. Sirius stared back. "What's wrong with him? He's seen me change before."

"Not right now, he hasn't." Aletha was fumbling in her purse again, handicapped by having Harry in her arms. "Here, take him."

She handed Harry over. Harry began to cry. Sirius looked at his godson in alarm. "What's the matter?" he shouted over Harry's wails.

"I had to charm him!" Aletha shouted back. "So he wouldn't yell out my name and ruin everything! Here–" She had found her wand, and pointed it at Harry, muttering a few words.

The difference was dramatic. Harry stopped mid-sob, blinked, looked at the man holding him, and broke into a huge smile. "Pa-fuh!"

"Yeah, yeah, glad to see you too," muttered Sirius, hugging his godson back. "Don't kill me, here, Greeneyes, strangleholds are illegal." Aletha could hear a choke in his voice, and doubted that all of it was from the death grip Harry had around his neck. "Look who's here too." He peeled Harry off him and turned him around.

"Letha!" Harry held out his arms to her, and Aletha took him from Sirius, suppressing a sniffle.

_He should have been ours outright, not just whatever times his aunt and uncle decide they don't want him around. Or no, he should have been James and Lily's, and we just visitors..._

_But life goes on, and we make the best of it that we can. And this is so much better than a lot of alternatives I can think of. _

* * *

Far away, a mother and father sang a lullaby to their little ones, in two-part harmony, telling them in no uncertain terms that they were loved, and loved dearly. They had many opportunities to tell them so during the day, of course, and took full advantage. 

But it was somehow better at night.

* * *

(A/N: After this, time starts speeding up... just a warning. Most of the rest of the action of this story takes place in Harry's first year at Hogwarts. And portions will be slightly HBP-spoilerish, but none of the hot-button stuff like who the Half-Blood Prince is (if you haven't gotten there yet, you'd probably never guess it, by the way). I'll try not to make it too obvious... and please review! 

I know, I know. I said I wouldn't post for two days after HBP. :sounds defensive: Well, it's been almost two days since I got it! And if you don't want to read this, you didn't have to – nobody made you... I sure didn't...

I would just like to state, for the record, that I have never used an Unforgivable Curse. Ever. You know who you are. :P)


	8. Similar But Not the Same

Chapter 8: Similar But Not the Same

"Oh, Aletha, she's beautiful," sighed Alice Longbottom, cradling the three-day-old in her arms. "Look, Neville, see the baby?"

"Bee-bee?" repeated Neville from his father's arms, craning his neck to look at what his mother was holding.

"That's right. Baby. Her name is Meghan Lily Black."

Neville considered trying to repeat this, but settled for a little more wide-eyed watching of the tiny girl, who had chosen this moment to open her eyes and begin to fuss.

"Oh, she's probably hungry," said Aletha from her chair, holding out her arms. "Here, I'll take care of it."

Alice handed Meghan over and pulled up a chair for herself as Frank set Neville on the floor. "So how are you holding up?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa and looking at Aletha carefully.

Aletha had been expecting this question, or a variant of it, and was ready. "I'm doing all right," she said. "I got my results back yesterday, passed all my tests, so I'm a full Healer now." She stopped for the Longbottoms' congratulations. "And everything's fine here at home. Nothing unusual happening, nothing going bump in the night."

"Well, if anything should, you know you can call on us. Night or day."

Aletha nodded. "I will."

The Ministry was eager to avoid any more bad publicity – Dumbledore's hadn't been the only reputation the _Daily Prophet_ had Bludgered after Sirius' escape – so they had more or less forced Aletha to accept Aurors watching her house. She didn't mind terribly much. As long as Sirius was careful not to change forms anywhere near a window, what would they see? A woman going on with her life, getting ready for her baby, taking care of her dog. Nothing unusual in that.

It was only now that Meghan had been born that the Ministry was relaxing. If Sirius were going to kidnap Aletha, the reasoning ran, he would have done so before she gave birth. If he tried to abduct her now, he would have to do something about the baby, and newborns were generally not good traveling companions. She noticed they were ignoring the evidence (misleading, true, but still evidence) that Sirius was a cold-blooded killer. Maybe they thought he'd make an exception for his wife and daughter, where he hadn't for a friend. She didn't care what they thought, really, as long as they didn't figure out the truth.

Namely, that the supposed criminal slept in her bed every night.

"But what about you?" she asked. "After that scare in February?"

"Oh, we're just fine," said Alice absently, smiling at the toy Neville was showing her.

Frank shook his head. "But we wouldn't have been, if Dumbledore hadn't warned us. How does he do that?"

Aletha shrugged. "Wish I knew."

Dumbledore had sent a message to the Longbottoms' home one February evening, warning them of a possible attack that coming night. It had reached them just as they were preparing to go to bed. Forty-five minutes later, four Death Eaters had entered their house, bypassing all the charms laid on it and coming in silently. Had Frank and Alice not been warned, they would have been asleep, helpless. Instead, they were awake and ready to fight, with several friends from the Order beside them.

The Death Eaters hadn't stood a chance.

The thwarted attack had meant changes at the Ministry, since one of the captured Death Eaters was Bartemius Crouch's son. Crouch had been ruthless, sending his son to Azkaban for life, and the magical public had been outraged. It really was a case of six of one, half a dozen of the other, Aletha thought without much sympathy. If Crouch had been so focused on his career that he hadn't noticed his son going Dark, maybe he was a little too focused.

"I did ask him," she said, recalling. "How he knew they were coming after you. He just smiled in that way he gets and said he had an anonymous tip, which he chose to act upon."

"I'm damned glad he did," said Frank bluntly. "And I hope I meet whoever tipped him off someday. I'll shake his hand and buy him a drink."

"Or she," said Alice, checking Neville's nappy. "It could have been a woman."

"So it could. Or she." Frank was a fair man.

* * *

The subject of his anonymous tipster was also much on Dumbledore's mind, as he studied the latest missive he'd gotten from the person. Or persons. He suspected more than one was involved. 

They were written in large, scrawling letters, as if whoever wrote them wasn't used to writing. In the same vein, they were very terse. The first one he'd gotten, in February, had been only three words long – "_Longbottoms danger tonight_". They had been getting slightly longer and more informative, but there was still nothing to tell him who might be sending them. He had never seen the owl which brought them, which led him to believe he might recognize the bird.

But, of course, he might be overthinking. It was a trap to which he was prone.

He laid out the three letters side by side. The first one, about the Longbottoms, went on the left, followed by the next one, which had come in April, and which read "_Investigate hideout Russell Square_". Aurors had inspected the houses in Russell Square and found Igor Karkaroff hiding in the basement of one of them.

And now this latest.

"_Increased danger werewolf attacks Edinburgh, esp. children._"

He had written a discreet letter to the Auror Office branch in Edinburgh, and to a few families that he knew in that area, including asking Minerva to spread the word. He had also informed the relevant branches of the Ministry, but he doubted they would do much of anything until after the fact.

So, that taken care of, he was left with the same problem as before.

Who was sending the letters?

He could think of three possibilities. One was that the letters might be bait, to make him think he had a juicy source of information, and eventually to lure him, or another, into a trap. But it seemed unlikely. If the letter about Russell Square had come first, with its relatively low payoff of Karkaroff, he would have suspected this more. But the first letter had netted the Ministry Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her husband and brother-in-law, and they were, as far as Dumbledore knew, some of the highest ranked Death Eaters around.

Bait for a trap was therefore unlikely. The second possibility was that one of the Death Eaters, or a friend or relative of theirs, had turned. But why not simply come to him, or to the Ministry, now that Voldemort was gone and the Death Eaters mostly captured or driven underground? As the case of Karkaroff proved, if one told enough names and stories, the Ministry might let one off quite lightly, which a Death Eater relative would not to any of their family caught telling tales.

That left only the third possibility.

Dumbledore sighed. He didn't like the third possibility at all. But it was the only one that fit all the facts.

How he wished he had some way to reverse the process by which these letters came to him. Some way, any way, to send a message in return.

He sat up a little straighter as an idea came to him.

Perhaps there was a way.

* * *

At the park, Petunia Dursley read a women's magazine while Dudley shoved the other children in the sandbox. She didn't seem to notice it, or that her nephew had drifted off to the nearby grass, where he was chasing a large black dog around, laughing wildly. Neither boy nor dog minded. Oblivious was the way they preferred Petunia. 

Both Dudley and Harry would soon be two years old, but only Harry looked it. Dudley was so enormous that most people guessed him more around three or four, and so stupid that he might as well still have been one.

_And if we'd let him stay in those bags of clothes they keep giving him, Harry would look more like a one-year-old than he already does,_ Sirius thought, dodging a rush by his godson. _Thank goodness for magic._

Magic could shrink Dudley's old clothes to a size where they would fit Harry, and Petunia always just thought they'd shrunk in the wash. Magic could also make the old, patched jacket Harry had worn this past winter as warm as Dudley's expensive down snowsuit, and keep his feet dry when his boots developed holes and his uncle and aunt didn't notice or didn't care.

And magic had worked wonders on Harry's "bedroom". Sirius growled a little at the thought of the place, stopping where he was.

"Gotcha, Padfoot!" yelled Harry gleefully, jumping on the dog.

_Oof._ Sirius spent a moment recovering his breath, then gently nosed Harry and pawed at the ground. _Point to you, kiddo. Ready for another round?_

"P'ay 'gain!" insisted Harry.

Sirius nodded and braced himself.

"Weady, go!"

Sirius took off running at Harry's yell, going near his top speed for a moment to get a head start, then slowing down so Harry would have a chance of catching him.

_Now what was I thinking about? Oh yes. That damned cupboard._

Aletha had been livid when she'd realized what it meant that Harry was afraid of the cupboard in her hallway. Sirius had had to stop her from marching off to turn the Dursleys into ants. They'd had a good laugh afterwards about role reversal.

Then they'd sat down and figured out what they could do about it.

The Dursleys went on vacation in the second week of February, leaving Harry behind in the house, with Aletha to house-and-baby-sit. She had insisted that was the way it had to be, "to keep from disturbing him too much". In reality, of course, Harry would have been much happier sleeping in the guest room at number seventeen. But the Blacks had their orders.

"_You may see Harry as much as you wish during the day, short of taking him in the morning and returning him at night. I leave that to your best judgment, save that he must never cease to regard number four as his home." Dumbledore's face had been grave. "But I cannot stress this next point enough. Harry must never spend a night away from both the house and the Dursleys. If they take him on a holiday, that is safe enough. If they leave him behind in the house, with you to mind him, Aletha, that is also safe. But you must never bring him to your home to sleep there. It would seriously compromise the wards, possibly even making them fall. I do not wish to take that chance."_

Personally, Sirius thought Dumbledore might be a little too safety-minded. But the precaution, in this case, had given them the opportunity they needed. Later on the day the Dursleys had left, with Harry watching in fascination from a conjured playpen in the hall, Aletha and Sirius had turned the little cupboard under the stairs inside-out. Almost literally.

They had expanded it in wizardspace, making it as large as Dudley's bedroom upstairs (Sirius had run up to check). A magical window like the ones at the Ministry of Magic (expensive, but what was money for?) had gone into one wall, tuned, like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, to mimic the weather outside. Sirius had transfigured Harry's battered old crib into one as comfortable as the one Aletha conjured for him when he took naps at her house, and Aletha had decorated the walls with broomsticks and Quidditch balls.

A few other items of furniture, like a table and chairs in Harry's size, a bookshelf filled with his favorite picture books (both the magically cleaned and repaired ones he'd gotten from his relatives and the new ones the Blacks had bought him), and a small toy chest with toys which were his and his alone, completed the room. They had placed the final touches on it – enchantments to ensure that no Muggle could see their improvements, and ones to keep Harry's new toys in the room so his aunt and uncle wouldn't wonder where he'd gotten them – then formally presented the room to Harry.

The little boy had bubbled over with joy, jumping up and down, clapping his hands, running around his room eagerly, touching everything as if unable to believe it was real. He had showed them the books and toys happily, explaining about each one very carefully, though Sirius only understood one word in ten. His favorite, predictably, was a Golden Snitch which really flew. He'd released it immediately and started chasing it, jumping at it when it fluttered too high for him.

It would all have been pointless, though, if Harry hadn't already proved that he could climb in and out of his crib at the age of eighteen months. Which he could. The boy was as fearless as his father, Sirius thought proudly, and going to grow up to be twice as smart...

He hit the ground hard, tackled from behind.

_What do I mean, grow up? He's twice as smart as James now._

Sirius rearranged his paws into a more comfortable pose and allowed his godson to climb on top of him, enjoying Harry's delighted laughter.

_I will never understand how the Dursleys manage what they do. How can you see that darling little face and not fall in love with it?_

* * *

It was the same thought that was in his mind later that night, after the Longbottoms and Harry had gone home, and he was alone with his wife and daughter. 

_Daughter. That's so hard to believe. Me with a daughter. _

But Meghan was everything he could have wanted. She looked like Aletha already, except for her eyes. They had turned a silvery grey within twenty-four hours of her birth. A birth for which Sirius had been able to be present.

It had taken some maneuvering, but wands were incredibly useful tools. Sirius had been able to change his appearance temporarily, get into the Muggle hospital unobtrusively, and manufacture the proper identification to convince the nurses there to let him in, all with nothing but his wand.

_It was nice of Dumbledore to make sure I got it back. _

He had to smile, thinking about that day. He hadn't known what to expect when the Aurors showed up at his cell halfway through the day with a Portkey, which brought him back to the Ministry. He'd been a little worried when he saw Dumbledore – who, besides being Headmaster of Hogwarts, was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – but he hadn't expected Dumbledore to stare into his eyes and, basically, speak to him in thought-images.

He had seen what looked like cartoon drawings of himself and Dumbledore going through the motions Dumbledore desired – him striking Dumbledore to the ground and taking his wand, Stunning the older wizard, removing another wand from Dumbledore's robes – at this point, Dumbledore broke contact to show Sirius the grip of his own wand, in an inside pocket of his cerulean robes – and Stunning the Aurors waiting outside the door, both of whom seemed remarkably unnoticing of the events within. There was a final, fleeting image of an owl, and the contact was broken once again.

Sirius hadn't been entirely sure that this was a good idea, but he had spent his adult life trusting Dumbledore, and the old man had never failed him yet. Experimentally, he had made a fist and pulled it back, and Dumbledore had given him a minute nod.

He knew he actually had to hit Dumbledore, or no one would believe the story, but he tried to make the strike as light as he could and still keep it creditable. Dumbledore helped him a great deal by turning to present a good angle to his fist, and putting up no fight at all as Sirius took the wand from his hand to Stun him with it. He had a suspicion about the Aurors outside the door as well, since, true to the visions, they didn't notice a thing as he slipped his own wand-tip through the bars on the door and Stunned them both, then let himself out.

_I wonder if they owe him, or if he Confunded them?_

Whichever, he was now free, in possession of a wand, and with no idea where to go. Then he recalled the last image, the owl. Obviously, Dumbledore would contact him soon with further instructions or suggestions. All he needed now was a temporary home.

The cave outside Hogsmeade where the Marauders had sometimes picnicked occurred to him, and he Apparated straight there, thankful that he hadn't splinched himself on the way. He had thought he would be more tired, since nightmare-filled sleep (the only kind possible with dementors around) was hardly restful, but for some reason that he couldn't quite recall, he seemed to have slept well the previous night. Food was more of a concern.

He caught a rabbit in dog form, then changed back to human to clean and cook it. He had just finished it off, wishing there was more, when a large brown owl swooped into the cave, carrying both a package (containing food and clean robes in his size, he was happy to see) and the expected letter, telling him both where to go and why.

No escaped prisoner in the world, he was sure, had ever been so nicely provided for.

_And that was one hell of a welcome home Aletha gave me, a couple days later when she showed up and "adopted" me..._

But why was he thinking of the past, when such a lovely piece of the present was sleeping in his arms at this very moment?

The present and the future, he amended. His beautiful Meghan would shape the future, a future without Voldemort. She and Harry and Neville Longbottom and all the other children of their generation would grow up free from fear.

_Except Hermione._ Sirius sighed, lowering his head to brush his lips against Meghan's forehead. _Poor baby. She would have loved having a little sister. _

"I'll just have to spoil you twice as rotten, to make up for it," he said aloud, but quietly, so as not to wake her.

* * *

Sirius kept his promise, although tempered by Aletha's guiding hand. Days turned into weeks, months into years, and Meghan and Harry grew, older, taller, stronger, and smarter. Neville and the Longbottoms continued to be frequent visitors, as did one of Aletha's friends from work, Anita Lovegood, and her daughter Luna, a year older than Meghan. The children would play, and the adults would talk, and Sirius would listen from under the table, wishing he could take part in the conversation. 

_Someday,_ he told himself. _Someday. When we find Wormtail – he's got to be out there somewhere, he didn't just lie down and die. Someday._

He often wondered whether it would be smart to reveal his secret to someone else. The Longbottoms might well trust him, they'd known him for years, and knew Aletha well, and loved Meghan to pieces, they'd surely believe him...

But it wasn't safe. What if they didn't? What if they went to the Ministry instead? The life he had was too happy, and too precarious, to endanger that way. He'd just have to survive with his loving wife and children. Poor him.

He and Aletha kept writing their letters to Remus and Danger (they held burning parties every Sunday evening), and he began to have dreams in which he got letters back from Remus, polite and chatty, giving details of a totally imaginary life, since obviously he and Danger, even if they'd lived, would never have been able to have a child at all, let alone twins, and they would certainly never have named them Reynard and Griselda. But he liked the letters. They were as authentically Moony as his memory and imagination could make them.

Death Eater attacks grew fewer and more sporadic as time went on. The Dark idiots seemed to be giving up hope that their master was simply bluffing and would soon return in all his so-called glory. Sirius was very glad of it.

_Because if there was ever anything that screamed "target", we're it. _

* * *

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking out the window without really seeing what was beyond it. 

_So. This is the answer. This is the answer to everything. _

His mysterious correspondents had indeed received the letter he'd left on his desk for them, adding a short PS to that effect to their note telling him not to worry about the werewolf attacks any longer. They had been writing back and forth for nearly two years now, the missives growing gradually longer, the handwriting firmer and smaller, as time went by. Finally, now, they were starting to be able to send him more than just the necessary information of the moment.

Now they were sending him some of Voldemort's darkest secrets.

Severus had never told him what was contained in this letter. Undoubtedly because Severus did not know. Voldemort was not a trusting man by nature. He never told anyone anything unless he had to, or unless it would hurt them to know it, and could not hurt him.

_Or so he thought._

Dumbledore smiled.

Voldemort's foolish gloating to those he thought without recourse might yet save them all.

_But there is a great deal of work ahead of me before that can happen. _

He began to make plans.

_There should be several spans of time each year when the school can do very well without me. _

* * *

"What's for dinner?" asked Sirius, dangling Meghan upside down by her ankles to hear her giggle. 

"Boiled Harry, if he doesn't get off the table." Aletha made a grab for the boy.

"You can't boil my godson, you witch!" Sirius flipped Meghan over, dropped her onto her feet, and scooped Harry up instead. "Watch it, or I might repudiate you!"

Aletha frowned. "Repudiate?"

"Magical equivalent to – oh, what's it called, dinorce? Where you end a marriage?"

"Divorce. I didn't know there was any magical equivalent."

"Well, it's not like the Muggle thing. Only men can do it..."

Aletha rolled her eyes. "Nice."

"Hey, I never said magical law was fair. It's got a lot of patriarchy left in it. But anyway, a man can repudiate his wife if she doesn't live up to the terms of the marriage contract."

"Marriage contract?"

"Pureblood thing. Hardly anyone bothers with it these days, except the snotty families no one wants to be around anyway."

"Like yours?"

"Like mine." Sirius was now holding both children at the same time, Harry in his left arm and Meghan in his right. "Want to take one of these?"

"Oh, why not." Aletha slid an arm around Meghan and removed her from Sirius' hip. "You know, we really have no right to be this happy."

"Says who?"

"Says the magical world that wants you dead. Or back in Azkaban."

"No thanks," said Sirius lightly, holding Harry out in front of him and letting his godson do backward flips with his own arms as the bar. "I'd rather not."

"I'm sure." Aletha swapped Meghan to her other arm and took out her wand, opening the oven with it and hovering out a dish. "And as for dinner, here it is."

"Casserole. Yum yum."

"I can always give you dog food."

"Casserole's fine," said Sirius hastily as Harry laughed.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy sat alone in the study, reading over a scroll, although she knew perfectly well what it said, having read it many times before. 

_I would have failed in my duty, I who have never failed before. _

_But I did not. _

_Thanks to them, I did not. _

A peal of laughter caught her ear, and a pale-blond boy ran past the door of the room where she sat. "Zelda, no fair!" Narcissa heard him shout. "Give it back!"

He was such a beautiful child, she thought distantly. Lucius had been exceedingly proud the day he was presented with a fine son, and grew prouder daily, as the boy proved his intelligence and cunning to be above average.

_And he prides himself on making certain of his son's safety. What would he do, I wonder, if he realized what the child has done to circumvent his plans? What I have done to the same end? _

But she did not regret what she had done. Far from it. She had entered into a deal willingly, a deal that profited both sides. As long as Lucius could be kept in ignorance of it, just so long would their family's prosperity last.

And just so long would that little boy's happiness.

So she had dedicated herself to making sure that, should Lucius ever discover what she had done, he would be powerless to harm anyone involved.

Including herself.

It would hardly have been Slytherin to do otherwise.

* * *

(A/N: A little shorter than usual, but don't fuss – I'm setting up for the big ones to come. Get ready for Anne's Edited Canon, coming soon to a screen near you... :grin: 

I'm taking the angst category off this. It really doesn't count anymore. Straight drama describes it pretty well. Or maybe mystery.

And yes, I am working on a new chapter of LwoD. Tomorrow night or Thursday, I think. Remember, I write faster with encouragement! And thank you everyone for using spoiler space on group! Those who haven't finished the book thank you even more!)


	9. The Letter

Chapter 9: The Letter

"INTO THAT CUPBOARD WITH YOU, BOY!" bellowed Vernon Dursley, the vein on his temple standing out. "AND DON'T LET ME CATCH YOU OUT OF IT UNTIL SUPPERTIME TOMORROW!"

"Yes, sir," said Harry Potter politely, and obediently ducked his head to enter the cupboard under the stairs.

_And I won't. Let him catch me, that is. _

_Nine years now and they've never noticed that I don't _mind_ being sent to my cupboard..._

His fingers found the spot on the wall which triggered the one-way soundproofing spell, then the one which activated the lookproofing spell (Padfoot called it something else, but Harry liked his word better), and finally the light switch. No sound from within the cupboard would now reach the outside world, and if his uncle should happen to open the door, all he would see was a sullen Harry sprawled on the mattress which lay on the floor, with the small chest of drawers at his head and the tiny bookshelf at his feet. The same went for his aunt or his cousin.

In reality, though...

Harry flopped into the overstuffed red armchair and looked around. The decorations in his room were much the same as they had ever been – broomsticks and Quidditch balls – but he now had a poster or two of his favorite Quidditch teams hanging on the walls as well. The books on his shelf had gotten bigger as he had, with his collection growing on his birthday, Christmas, and whenever he filched one out of Dudley's second bedroom, since Dudley never noticed when books went missing.

He'd had a proper bed since he was bathroom-trained, or, rather, he'd had a lumpy mattress on the floor for a few weeks, until Letha could persuade his aunt to let her baby-sit him long enough that she could move in the proper bed she and Padfoot had gotten him. Harry was occasionally a little embarrassed at the money Padfoot and Letha spent on him, when he wasn't even theirs, but Padfoot insisted that Harry's being his godson meant he could spoil Harry just as badly as he did Meghan.

Thinking of Meghan made Harry remember that he'd promised to give her a call as soon as he had time. He got up and crossed to his desk, rummaging through the mess there until he found what he was looking for – an old, tarnished, gilt-edged mirror. "Meghan Black," he said clearly into it.

After a moment, the mirror lit up with the image of a girl's face, dark-skinned and bright-eyed. "Harry! Your aunt and uncle can't be in bed yet, it's not even dark!"

"No, they sent me to my cupboard."

Meghan giggled. She knew the secret of Harry's cupboard, having played with him in it often when the Dursleys were away. "What did you do?"

Harry grimaced. "I guess I talked back to my uncle. I didn't really mean to, but he had a couple of drinks after dinner, and he started going on about how immoral Letha is, and how he doesn't believe she's a widow..."

Meghan raised her eyebrows. "He's right."

"Yes, but that's not what he means!" Harry considered trying to explain, but gave it up as a bad job. "So what did you want to tell me?"

"Mum's going shopping in Diagon Alley next week and she wants you to come along."

"What day next week?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Yes. I have to know what day to ask if I can be out of the house all day."

"Mum, what day are we going shopping?" shouted Meghan to one side of the mirror.

"Tuesday!" answered Letha's voice distantly.

"Tuesday, she says," repeated Meghan into the mirror.

"I heard her. Tuesday." Harry considered it. "Wait – why are we going shopping on my birthday?"

Meghan giggled again, and the view of her face blurred as someone else picked up the mirror. "Well, we won't have a certain list of things to buy until then," said a deep, amused voice.

Harry suddenly felt very stupid. Of course, his birthday – his eleventh birthday – the day on which his Hogwarts letter would come! "Thanks, Padfoot," he said, making a face at his godfather. "Are you coming too?"

"Collar and lead and everything," said Padfoot, making a face back. Harry could sympathize. As much as he loved his cupboard, it was still a cage, where the Dursleys could put him when they didn't want him.

_But that's going to change, when I get that letter..._

He chatted a little longer with Padfoot and Letha and Meghan before disconnecting the mirror. Afterwards, he lay on the chair, legs up on the back and head hanging off the seat, and thought about life.

His life with the Dursleys he considered in the light of an exciting adventure game. Brave the wilds of Dursley-world, respect the native customs, trade work for food, and look forward to every opportunity to return to civilization, also known as number seventeen, Privet Drive. But he was being hunted, so he couldn't stay in civilization; he had to live in the wild. Number four was his home, the only safe place for him, as he'd known ever since that tearful day when he'd been four and asked why, _why_ he had to go back there where they didn't like him, instead of staying with Padfoot and Letha and Meghan, where he was so happy?

He could have hated the Dursleys, Harry thought. He could have hated them for standing in the way of what he wanted. But, in truth, he had almost everything he wanted. It might have been nice to live openly with his godfather, but that wasn't the Dursleys' fault. And all the privations the Dursleys tried to force on him, the Blacks smoothed over, with the result that Harry's life was a rather pleasant one.

So he didn't hate the Dursleys, exactly, though he often wondered what his life would have been like if they didn't hate him so very much. Would he have ended up like Dudley, a spoiled brat who thought he deserved everything in the world and then some?

No matter. They didn't, so he wasn't, and his life was just fine. And about to get a whole lot better.

There would be a letter soon. A letter written on parchment and addressed in emerald green ink, with no stamp or return address. He knew better than to open it in front of his relatives, who would take it away from him on principle, assuming Aunt Petunia didn't recognize it and start screeching about abominations and freaks. No, he would chuck it into his cupboard as he came down the hallway, then, after breakfast, ask permission to go out. And then he would retrieve it and open it with his real family, in his real home.

After all, he only had to be able to call number four "home". He didn't have to feel that way about it.

* * *

_The boy paused before ripping the flap open. "Are you sure you're ready?" he teased the girl. _

"_Stop it!" She took a swipe at him. "Just open it!"_

"_Are you sorry you don't have one?"_

"_Enough," said the man in a quelling tone, but the boy could see mirth in his eyes. "It's not her fault she's not old enough to go to Hogwarts yet."_

"_And she will get there," the woman added. "Maybe not in the traditional way, but she'll get there."_

"_Now will you please open it before I scream?" said the girl, staring at him in that pointed way which indicated she really meant it. _

_He slid his finger under the flap and pulled. _

* * *

Harry jerked awake.

_What an odd dream_, he thought. He hadn't been able to see any of the people's faces clearly, just outlines or silhouettes, or perhaps he hadn't seen them at all, just heard their voices...

But he'd been able to see their emotions, and the way they looked at each other. Just not their faces.

Or maybe he had seen the faces, but couldn't remember them. It didn't really matter.

What mattered (he checked his watch) was that it was the morning of his birthday. 6:30 in the morning, to be precise, and that was about the time when the post would come...

He got out of bed and got dressed in the dark, not wanting to spoil his night-sight by turning on the lights, then opened the door of his cupboard, quietly, carefully, thankful that he'd remembered to oil the hinges two days before. The hall was dark, but there was enough light for him to see his way to the front door, which he had likewise oiled, and out onto the lawn.

He hadn't been there more than five minutes when it happened. Something caught his eye to the right, and there, winging its way towards him, was a huge, beautiful barn owl. And it was carrying a letter in its beak.

Harry lifted up his wrist, bracing himself for the weight of the bird, which settled gently onto his arm, closing its talons ever so gently about his flesh and dropping the letter into his other hand. "Mice in the back garden," he told it. "My aunt's always complaining about them. And there's a birdbath two houses that way." He pointed.

The owl gave a hoot of thanks and spread its wings, and Harry tossed it into the air to give it a flying start. He watched it soar around the house, then turned and went back inside, holding the precious letter in both hands, except when he needed one to open the door.

Back in his cupboard room, he fell onto his bed, feeling as if he wanted to burst out of his skin with excitement. Even though he knew the letter was nothing more than a dry formal greeting and a list of supplies that very seldom changed, it was still special. The look, the feel, even the smell of it was special.

For as long as he could remember, Harry had noticed smells more particularly than other people. Aunt Petunia relied on him to tell if the milk had gone bad or the leftover peas weren't worth salvaging (he occasionally fibbed when he felt he couldn't stand another night of looking at the same vegetables). The Dursleys' house had a scent like a hospital, antiseptic, forbidding, too clean to be a home. By contrast, the house at number seventeen had an odor of warmth and life about it, with overtones of biscuits in the oven, clean sheets, and laughter. It was strange to think that laughter had a smell, but it did. Or at least Harry thought that it did.

He ran over his friends in his mind, working out who would be at Hogwarts with him and who wouldn't. Neville Longbottom, obviously, they'd been born only one day apart – maybe he'd see Neville at Diagon Alley. Luna Lovegood, no. She was a year too young to go, she'd be a first year to his second. Meghan, of course not, she was a year younger than Luna. But that didn't mean she couldn't dream.

_Dream..._

_That dream I had. Could that have been me, and Meghan, and Padfoot and Letha talking?_

His mind spun over the words that had been spoken, the expressions and looks exchanged. It was entirely possible. He would tease Meghan just that way, Padfoot would stop them, Letha would calm Meghan down, Meghan would threaten him...

Yes, that was what it was, Harry decided. He'd dreamt how it would be when he opened his letter.

* * *

After breakfast, Harry broached the subject. "Aunt Petunia, Meghan Black's invited me to her house to stay all day. May I go?"

His aunt pursed her lips. "I wanted you to weed the garden today," she said disapprovingly.

"I'll do it after I get back. Please?"

"Make sure you do." Aunt Petunia turned away.

"I will. Thank you," said Harry to her back, and hurried to his cupboard, snatching up the letter where it lay on his bed.

When he straightened up again, he thought he'd gone blind. Then he realized the light was being blocked by the bulk of Dudley.

"What's that you've got?" asked Dudley, pointing at the letter in his hand.

_Uh-oh._ "Nothing."

It was the wrong answer. "Dad!" Dudley shouted. "Dad! Mum! Harry's got something in the mail!"

Harry shoved past Dudley, squeezing through partly due to his smaller size and partly to desperation, and ran for his life, houses whizzing by. If he could just get to number seventeen before they started shouting after him... or if their dislike of making a scene would just conquer their desire to stop him having anything at all, anywhere, ever...

* * *

Vernon Dursley watched the boy take the front steps of number seventeen two at a time and sighed. "No use calling him back now, he'll just pretend not to hear," he said, turning to go back inside. "Besides, it's probably a birthday card from that little chit. That's why he's been invited over, it's his birthday, and they're trying to make him feel special." Satisfied with this explanation, he returned to his coffee and newspaper.

"Dudley, dear?" Petunia moved closer to her son. "What did Harry's letter look like?"

"Look like?"

"Was it large or small?"

"Large, bigger than usual. And it was written in green, on kind of yellowy paper."

Petunia nodded. "And... did the address seem... to have more lines than usual?"

"I don't know... maybe. Why?"

"Just wondering, dear. Thank you, you've been a great help."

She leaned against the doorframe after Dudley had squeezed through the door, feeling a bit weak in the knees. She had known it would probably happen sooner or later, but later had always been the more prominent option...

_But the boy is eleven. You knew it happened when they turned eleven. _

And this would get him out of the house. She could remind Vernon of that. He'd only be back for two months a year – they'd make sure he stayed there for the holidays – and they could surely come up with a suitable story for the neighbors. There was no reason for anyone to know.

Unless...

_Why did he take it to the Blacks' to open?_

Fear suddenly gripped her again.

* * *

Harry burst through the door. "I've got it," he chanted. "I've got it, I've got it, I've got it..."

"You've got it, you've got it, you've got it," Meghan joined him, doing a dance step to the chant, which turned into spinning in a circle like ring-around-the-rosy.

Padfoot ran up to them, circled around them twice in dog form, then changed in the middle of the circle formed by their clasped hands and started dancing in place, adding a bass line to their song. "He's got it, he's got it..."

"You look like a May Day celebration," said Letha from the kitchen doorway. "Are you going to dance all day, or are you going to open that so we can go shopping?"

"Open it, open it!" Meghan let go of Harry's hands to jump around in excitement. "Open it quick!"

Harry grinned at her. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Just open it!" Meghan did a cartwheel into the living room, then one back. "Now, now!"

Satisfied that he'd dreamed of what this moment might be like, Harry slid a finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled it up.

Everything was exactly as it should be. The letter on Hogwarts stationery, signed by Professor Minerva McGonagall, and the list of supplies, which Harry put back into the envelope so he wouldn't lose it while he was busy staring at the letter.

Padfoot laid a hand on his shoulder, making Harry turn to look at him. His godfather's face was covered with the grin Harry had only ever seen after a particularly successful prank. "Good luck, Greeneyes," he said softly. "You'll like Hogwarts."

"Bet I will," said Harry, returning the grin. A line in the letter caught his eye. _They want a response by 31 July – that's today! _"Can I borrow Maya?" he said, referring to Letha's screech owl.

"Of course. And parchment and quills are on the desk in the living room." Letha dropped a kiss on his head. "Congratulations, love."

Harry smiled at her and went to write his "Yes, thank you, I will come" letter, with Padfoot to advise him about phrasing and Meghan to be a pest and read over his shoulder.

"Do you think Neville will be shopping at Diagon Alley today too?" she asked.

"I don't know," answered Padfoot, since Harry was concentrating on his handwriting. "Do you want him to be?"

Meghan nodded.

"Meghan's got a boyfriend," teased Harry, looking up.

"Do not!"

"Do so."

"Do not!" Meghan reached down to hit Harry and upended the ink bottle all over his letter.

Harry jumped up with a yell. "Now look what you did!"

"It's not a disaster," said Padfoot, tapping the ink puddle with his wand and making it freeze in place, then starting to vacuum it up. "But you two both need to settle down some. We can't take you out in public if you're fighting like this."

Harry looked at Meghan sidewise. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Sorry," she said back, but she still looked mad at him.

* * *

Their first stop at Diagon Alley, of course, was Gringotts, where Harry took some money out of his parents' vault and Letha got some out of the Black vaults for her own expenses.

"I want to buy one thing all myself," said Harry as they walked down the steps of Gringotts. "Just one. May I?"

"Well, Diagon Alley's probably a safe place," said Letha. "I don't see why not. How about your uniform? I think you're old enough to handle that. Meet us at the Apothecary afterwards?"

Harry nodded and hurried off towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The little bell over the door tinkled as he walked in, and Madam Malkin hurried up to him.

"Hogwarts, of course," she said, smiling at him. "Come right on back, you can chat with this other young man here..."

A boy with a rather pale face and silver-blond hair was standing on a footstool while a witch pinned up the long black robes he was wearing. Harry followed the boy's line of sight and smiled – a grey dog with pointed ears and intelligent brownish eyes was looking back at him, head tilted slightly to one side.

"Right up here, dear, that's the way," said Madam Malkin, drawing the other boy's attention to Harry as he climbed onto the second stool and let Madam Malkin slide a robe over his head.

"Hello," said the other boy, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"I noticed you were looking at Zelda," said the boy, looking back at his dog, who was now watching both boys. "We go everywhere together, I think I'd be lost without her."

"Are you allowed to bring a dog to Hogwarts?" asked Harry curiously.

"Well, Father's writing to the Headmaster to find out for certain, but I think I should be allowed, I mean, I've heard of people bringing other kinds of pets than cats or owls or toads, and she's very polite, she won't bite anyone."

"But won't she have to go out?"

"No, not her. She can use the loo."

Harry looked from animal to boy, surprised. He had never heard of training a dog to use the toilet before. "How did you teach her to do that?"

"My dad did it. He's very clever that way." The boy gave a little half-smile, looking straight at Harry for the first time. His eyes widened a little as he did. "Wait... you're not... are you Harry Potter?"

Padfoot and Letha had warned Harry that he'd run into this as he became more of a part of the wizarding world. He was famous, and he'd have to deal with it. So it was with good grace that he answered, "Yes, I am."

"Wicked!" The boy looked down to make sure the witch wasn't trying to pin under his right arm, then held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy. But only my father calls me Draco. Everyone who knows me calls me Ray."

"Ray?" repeated Harry, shaking his hand. "Oh, from D-ray-co?"

"Yeah – my mum didn't want me called Dray or Day, so I guess Ray was the only thing left." Ray shrugged, smiling. "So d'you have any idea what house you'll be in?"

"Not really – Gryffindor, maybe, but I'll have to wait and see. You?"

"Well, my mother and father were in Slytherin... but I don't know. Just because your family's one way, doesn't mean you have to be, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," said Harry, thinking of Padfoot. "I know somebody whose whole family for generations was in Slytherin, and he turned out to be a Gryffindor."

"Really?" Ray's face seemed to light up. "That's brilliant – who?"

Harry tried not to gulp. "I forget his name," he said quickly. "But he was somebody my dad knew."

"All right." Ray was still smiling. "Hear that, Zelda?" he said to the dog. "His whole family was in Slytherin, and he turned out to be a Gryffindor!"

Zelda turned around and lay down, as if this news interested her not at all.

"That's you done, m'dear," said the witch pinning Ray's robes. "Just hop down and we'll get these made up right away."

Ray stepped down from the footstool. "Come on, Zel," he said as the witch waved her wand, sending a line of stitching around the hem of the robes. "We need to go find Mother now."

Zelda got to her feet and stretched. Harry noticed she was wearing a green leather collar with symbols etched into it. It looked tight, but it didn't seem to be bothering her.

"See you at Hogwarts, then, I guess," said Ray.

"See you." Harry watched the other boy go, the dog pacing beside him, his hand occasionally falling to rest on her head or back, as Harry sometimes did with Padfoot.

* * *

"Malfoy?" repeated Padfoot in surprise. "You liked a boy named Malfoy?"

Harry nodded, licking one of the ice creams they'd bought and kept cold for after supper. "Draco Malfoy. But everyone calls him Ray."

"Must be Lucius Malfoy's son, I remember him telling me Narcissa was expecting a few months before your mum was due." Padfoot took another bite of his own ice cream and frowned. "Funny, though, I would never have thought any of the Malfoys would have the capacity to be nice. You said he had a pet with him?"

Harry nodded. "A dog with grey fur. Looked kind of like a shepherd, with pointed ears and all that."

"But there aren't any shepherd breeds with grey fur," said Letha. "Maybe it was a cross. Did he say?"

"No. Just that her name was Zelda, and they went everywhere together."

"She sounds pretty," said Meghan. "Did she let you pet her?"

"I didn't try, I was getting my robes fitted."

"Too bad."

"So, one more month," said Padfoot teasingly. "How are you ever going to survive?"

Harry grinned. "I think I'll manage."

* * *

He lay on his side, staring out the window at the stars. She was a comforting warmth against his back, as she had been all his life that he could recall. The others were outdoors but nearby, two more sources of reassurance in an otherwise cheerless world.

_One more month,_ he thought. _Will I make it?_

**I think you'll manage.**

He nodded. It was the answer he'd expected.

* * *

The moon shone down over all of England, on those who slept and those who hunted.

Vernon Dursley considered opening the door to check on his sleeping nephew, to make sure he wasn't doing anything funny, but a sudden rush of hunger turned him away from the cupboard door and back to the refrigerator, where a pint of rum raisin ice cream was waiting.

Lucius Malfoy thought of looking in on his sleeping son, just to have another glance at the next generation of the House of Malfoy, but an inexpressible impulse sent him to his wife's bedroom instead, where he promptly forgot about his son in what Narcissa had ready for him.

And far away, an old man's quest neared completion, as he drew close to the final piece of the puzzle.

* * *

(A/N: Well, the sooner I get some of this out of my system, the quicker I can get back to LwoD... so please feed the author! Review!) 


	10. Freedom

Chapter 10: Freedom

1 September. A day of wonder. A day of bliss.

At least, it was if you were eleven years old and magical.

It had to be hard on Meghan, Harry thought, glancing at her in the back seat of Letha's car, sitting beside Padfoot with her arms folded and a hint of a pout on her face. She'd done everything with him since they were babies, and now suddenly she couldn't go somewhere he was going, just because there was a two-year age difference between them.

_Hope she doesn't throw a fit in the station..._

But then Harry remembered that they were meeting the Longbottoms there, and his qualms vanished. Neville could handle Meghan in all her moods, even better than Letha or Padfoot could. By the time the train left, he'd probably have her convinced she had the better end of the deal staying home.

Harry's mind fluttered, free-associating. _Home. Number four. The Dursleys._

His aunt and uncle had been less than pleased to discover he'd inherited his mother and father's "taint", but since it wasn't going to cost them anything to send him to Hogwarts, and it would get him out of the house ten months a year, they agreed that he could go. Not that he would have minded if they'd said no – what was the worst they could do? Lock him in his cupboard and hide away or destroy the things he'd bought? He had at least two different means of communicating with his family, and things could always be bought again.

He'd greatly enjoyed walking out of number four that morning, pulling his trunk behind him and carrying the cage containing Hedwig, his snowy owl, in his other hand. He'd had a curious feeling that it was the last time he'd ever be inside the boxy-looking house, although he knew it couldn't be true. He'd be back next summer, and the summer after that, and all the summers until he was grown.

_But that's ten months away – no reason to borrow trouble. _

Harry lost himself in pleasant daydreams of the coming school year, which ended only when Letha gently shook his shoulder to alert him to the fact that they had arrived.

Neville and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were waiting for them near the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters. Meghan's pout, which had shown signs of becoming permanent, vanished at the sight of Neville, who greeted her eagerly and showed her the toad his Great-Uncle Algie had bought him, which he'd named Trevor. Letha shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, and Padfoot wagged his tail to them.

"Good luck at school, Harry," said Mr. Longbottom, shaking hands with him. "I think you'll do fine."

"I know you'll do fine," corrected Mrs. Longbottom, hugging him. "Your parents would be proud of you, Harry."

Harry beamed. It was his favorite compliment. "Thanks."

Together, he and Neville crossed the barrier between platforms nine and ten, feeling the little wash of cool across them as they stepped through.

Time seemed to rush past. He and Neville and Mr. Longbottom were lifting the trunks aboard the train and finding an empty compartment... he was hugging Meghan and promising to write every week without fail... he was hugging Padfoot, who had said everything at home and had to content himself now with a soulful look and a big sloppy lick ("Yuck!")... he was being held close by Letha, who kissed the top of his head and whispered, "They would be proud today" before letting him go... he was aboard the train, waving out the door with Neville as it began to pick up speed...

"Let's go sit down, then," said Harry, shutting the door as the train rounded the corner.

The bang of the door closing must have startled Trevor, as he gave an emphatic wriggle and leapt from Neville's hand, vanishing into the next car.

"Oh no!"

"Harry!"

The two exclamations came almost simultaneously, and for an instant Harry wasn't sure which way to turn. Footsteps coming down the car helped clue him in.

"All right, Ray?" he said, turning around.

"All right. You?"

"All right. Do you know Neville Longbottom?"

"No, I don't."

"Neville, this is Draco Malfoy, but he likes to be called Ray, and his dog, Zelda..."

"Wolf, actually," corrected Ray quietly.

"Fine, your _wolf_ Zelda."

Zelda tossed her head proudly.

"Ray, this is Neville Longbottom, and I'd introduce his toad, Trevor, but he just got away."

"That's too bad," said Ray as he shook hands with Neville. "Say, do you want Zelda to see if she can find him?"

Neville looked hopeful. "Could she?"

"Have you been holding him for long today?"

"All morning."

"Zel," called Ray, and the wolf came to sniff at Neville's hands. "Since you've been holding him, your scent's on him," he explained. "She'll go and find anything that smells like you, but isn't you, and then either bring him back here or come and get us to get him, if she can't reach him."

"Will she hurt him?"

Ray shook his head. "She fetches things alive all the time. She's very gentle and very smart."

Zelda smacked Ray's leg with the back of her paw, then nosed open the door of the next car and vanished through it.

"She's also temperamental," said Ray. "May I sit with you, or are you full up?"

"We've got room," said Harry. "But shouldn't you go with Zelda? Someone's going to make a fuss if they see a wolf wandering around without a human."

Ray made a face. "Didn't think of that. Neville, you want to come too? It's your toad."

"Er, all right. See you in a minute, Harry."

Harry returned to the compartment and sat down, not really thinking about much of anything, just enjoying the fulfillment of his dream, to be on the Hogwarts Express and going away to school at last.

The door slid open. "That was quick," said Harry, turning to see.

But it wasn't Ray or Neville, it was another boy, fast turning as red as his hair. "I'm sorry, you're expecting someone – I was just going to ask if I could sit here, everywhere else is full, but you've got people coming–"

"It's all right," said Harry, standing up to stop the boy from leaving. "You can sit in here, there's only me and two others. First year, too?"

The boy nodded, coming in. He was tall and gangling, with a long nose and large hands and feet. "Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his hand.

Harry took it and prepared himself for the inevitable. "Harry Potter."

Ron goggled at him. "Are you really?"

Harry nodded.

"And d'you really have..." He pointed to his forehead.

Harry lifted his bangs to show his lightning-bolt scar.

"Wow." Ron sounded truly impressed. "Who're you waiting for?"

"Some friends of mine," said Harry, stretching a point, since he wasn't quite sure if he was friends with Ray yet, though he liked the blond boy. "They're in our year. Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy. But he likes people to call him Ray."

"Have you known them long?"

"I just met Ray at Diagon Alley a month ago, but I've known Neville my whole life."

"Oh." Ron sat down. "Is that your owl?" he asked, pointing to Hedwig, on the luggage rack above Harry.

"Yes, that's Hedwig. D'you have a pet?"

"Just my brother Percy's old rat," said Ron dismissively, pulling a lump of gray fur from his pocket. "He never wakes up unless he's eating, he's useless."

"What's his name?" asked Harry, looking more closely at the rat.

"Scabbers. Percy's had him forever, but now he's a prefect and he gets an owl for it, and Scabbers gets handed down the line."

"Do you have any other brothers?"

"Only four," said Ron just a trifle bitterly. "And a younger sister."

"I've got a younger sister," said Harry. "Sort of. She's my neighbor, her mum babysits me, and we've been together so much it's kind of like we're brother and sister. Does yours try to steal all your chips at lunch?"

"Yes – and then tries to claim you ate them yourself when you weren't looking!"

The conversation was in full swing when the door opened again. "I'm glad we were there," said Ray, coming in behind Neville, clutching a squirming Trevor. "Otherwise she might have got warts on her tongue..."

Zelda, coming in last, stopped dead in the doorway.

"What's that?" asked Ron, looking at the wolf.

"Her name's Zelda," said Ray. "Who're you?"

"Ron Weasley. Who're you?"

"Draco Malfoy, but call me Ray. What's that?" Ray pointed at the lump of Scabbers on Ron's knee, at which Zelda was now growling.

"It's my rat, and keep your dog away from him. I don't like that look." Ron bundled Scabbers away in his pocket again.

"She's not a dog, she's a wolf. And she won't hurt your rat." But Ray was looking in the direction Scabbers had been with an oddly angry expression himself, Harry thought. "When did you get him?"

"Why's it any of your business?"

"I'm just asking! I–" Ray broke off, frowning fiercely for a moment. Then his face cleared. "I'm sorry if I insulted you somehow," he said carefully. "I didn't mean to. And I promise Zelda won't hurt your rat."

"All right." Ron looked at Neville and held out his hand. "Ron Weasley."

"Neville Longbottom. And this is Trevor."

"A toad! I didn't know anyone still brought those."

"He was a gift," said Neville, reddening slightly. "From my great-uncle."

"No kidding – you mean someone besides me has great-uncles?" Ron looked impressed.

After Ron and Neville had compared families, everything in the compartment settled down, and the boys could have a good long talk about topics that interested them all. Such as Quidditch, Hogwarts, Quidditch, food (as the lunch cart came around and Harry treated everyone), and Quidditch. Zelda curled up on the seat between Ray and Harry and went to sleep.

"When did you get her?" asked Neville.

"We've been together since I was a baby," said Ray. "I think 'Zel' was one of my first words."

"Is she like a guard dog?" asked Ron. "Would she hurt someone who tried to hurt you?"

Ray nodded. "That's supposedly what she's for. But she means a lot more to me than that. She's really more like my friend than a pet." His hand rested on the back of Zelda's head for a moment. "She's almost all the company I have at home. My father and mother are busy with their own things a lot."

This brought the conversation neatly back to their families, with it being Harry's turn to talk this time. He kept to his story about Letha and Meghan being his neighbors and said nothing about Padfoot except as the family pet. The other boys were more interested in his stories about the Dursleys anyway, being all three pureblooded and not familiar with Muggle life.

In what seemed like no time, the train was slowing down, and they were getting off, dressed now in their Hogwarts robes, following the bellow of "Firs' years! Firs' years follow me!"

"That's Hagrid," whispered Harry to the others. "He's the gamekeeper." He smiled at Hagrid as he passed – Letha had brought him and Meghan to Hogwarts a time or two, and he'd liked the big man who always had something interesting in his pockets.

They made their way down the steep, slick track to the shore of the lake. Ray had gotten cut off from them at some point, and Harry looked for him as he climbed into a boat with Ron and Neville, finally spotting him far down the shore. He was looking unhappy about something... oh, of course, there were already three other people in his boat, so there wasn't any room for Zelda, who was standing on the shore, whining.

Harry waved to get Ray's attention, then pointed at Zelda and beckoned. Ray leaned out of his boat and said one or two words to the wolf, and she raced down the shore and leapt lightly into Harry's boat, almost making Neville drop Trevor again. Ron snickered, and Zelda smacked him with her paw as she had Ray on the train.

"Ow." Ron rubbed his knee. "What was that for?"

Zelda snorted and turned away from him, resting her head on Harry's knee and looking up at him amusedly. Tentatively, he offered her his fingers, and felt gratified when she sniffed them and gave them a delicate lick.

Ron shook his head. "That animal is not normal," he said.

Zelda favored him with a look that said as clearly as words, _And_ you_ are?_

* * *

Harry tried not to fidget as he stood in line, waiting for the Sorting Hat to finish with Neville. 

"He'll be a tough case for Sorting," Padfoot had said of Neville. "His father was a Hufflepuff, but he's the bravest Hufflepuff I know, and his mum was a Gryffindor, but the hardest-working and fairest-minded one I know. So he could go either way."

The Hat opened its mouth now –

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry wished he could cheer, but there was no guarantee that he'd be a Gryffindor himself. He could hope, of course, but the Hat placed you where it thought you would fit best, and that wasn't necessarily where you wanted to be...

Neville was jogging back to Professor McGonagall now, a bit red-faced, to return the Sorting Hat, which he'd run off wearing. She set the hat on the stool and looked at her list, frowning.

Harry felt Ray tense beside him. "What's wrong?" he hissed.

"Nothing."

But Ray looked worried, all the same, and only relaxed when McGonagall read out, "MacDougal, Morag!"

It was a short reprieve. "Malfoy, Draco!" was the next name on the list.

Ray went forward to sit on the stool. McGonagall lowered the Hat onto his head, and another long waiting process began. Zelda whined uneasily, watching him.

"He'll be all right," Harry told her out of the corner of his mouth. "You'll see. He'll be all right."

The Hat straightened up. "GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a great deal of cheering from the Gryffindor table. Ray, as the Hat came off his head, looked surprised, pleased, and relieved. Zelda gave a joyous bark and bounded forward, leaping at Ray –

No, it was the Hat she was leaping at, and she'd snatched it out of Professor McGonagall's hand before anyone knew what was happening.

"Zelda!" shouted Ray, although he was handicapped by laughing. "Come back here!"

Zelda wasn't listening. She'd bounded up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, and was now worrying her head into the Hat, for all the world as if she wanted to be Sorted too. She came prancing back up the aisle wearing it, causing gales of laughter, both for the incongruity of the sight and because it was obvious that she couldn't see where she was going.

And then, to top it all off...

"GRYFFINDOR!" announced the Hat loudly.

More laughter still, and Gryffindor House cheered its newest member, as Ray, rather pink in the face, removed the Hat from Zelda's head, gave it back to Professor McGonagall, and led Zelda firmly to the House table, where Fred and George Weasley made a production of making room for the wolf on the bench beside them.

* * *

_Dear Meghan, _

_The Sorting's over, and we're all in Gryffindor. That's me, Neville, my new friend Ron, and the boy I met in Diagon Alley, Ray. And his wolf, Zelda. She stole the thing they use for Sorting, and it Sorted her before anyone could stop it. (I'm not telling you how it happens.)_

_I guess it's true that you can bring other kinds of pets than cats or owls or toads. Ray has Zelda, and Ron has a rat called Scabbers. We have a nice dormitory, with two other boys – Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan – at the very top of Gryffindor Tower. _

_I'll write again soon and tell you how classes are going. _

_Harry_

* * *

"Harry?" 

Harry looked up. "Hmm?"

"Does that have to go out tonight?" Ray pointed to the letter in Harry's hand. "Because I was just going to ask if I could borrow Hedwig for something."

"When would she be back?"

"Tomorrow morning at the very latest. It's not far."

"What kind of thing?"

"A little package. Nothing heavy or hard to carry."

"How about it, girl?" Harry asked Hedwig. "You think you can do that?"

Hedwig clacked her beak.

"Go ahead," said Harry. "I'll hold onto this and send it out tomorrow."

"Thanks." Ray held out his wrist for Hedwig to step onto, then climbed onto his bed and pulled the curtains shut. Zelda, holding something in her mouth, leapt neatly up after him.

"Harry, have you seen Scabbers?" asked Ron. "He's not anywhere around."

"He'll turn up," said Harry, yawning. "Don't keep the light on too late, Ray?"

"I won't," said Ray's voice from inside his bedcurtains.

* * *

He closed his eyes and relaxed all over, surrendering control in the familiar process he'd known since he was a baby. When his eyes opened again, they moved without direction from his own mind, and his wand moved in gestures he himself wouldn't learn for years, sealing the curtains so that no sound could escape. 

She dropped what she'd appropriated, and his hand brought the wand down sharply, stopping its flight before it could even start. Another tap and muttered incantation secured the container he would use, and he made an air hole in the lid before securing that too. Death was not what he desired for this one.

Since he was old enough to understand the concept, he had hated injustice. And a long-standing injustice was about to be righted.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office tired, but elated. His years-long quest was bearing fruit. Four of the objects he had sought, he had found, and dealt with appropriately. As far as he knew, only one remained, and he had an idea of where it might be found. 

_Perhaps, after all, Harry's impossible task will not be so impossible. _

A small package waited on his desk. A small, cylindrical, package, addressed to him in familiar handwriting, with one line written below it.

"_I believe you've been looking for this._"

Carefully, Dumbledore ripped away the brown paper. A glass jar was revealed, with an extra sheen to it making him believe it had been charmed Unbreakable.

A wise precaution, he realized when he saw what the jar contained. His tiredness vanished in a flare of righteous anger and satisfaction.

_Time and past it for justice to be done. _

He picked up the jar, considering it and its contents. For one moment, he thought he smelled smoke, and wondered whimsically if his eyes could set things on fire.

_If they could, this might well be one of the things I would choose to ignite..._

_But not yet. _

Slipping the jar into a pocket, he turned to his fireplace.

* * *

Meghan was up early the next morning, playing quietly by herself in the living room of her home, making fanciful sculptures with her magical building blocks, which stuck together no matter what configuration one put them in. She often built chairs with them for her playhouse, and very comfortable they were too, though Mum said they ruined her posture. 

_I wonder when Harry and Neville's letters will start coming? _She got up to peer out the window, though she knew the boys probably wouldn't write after just one night at school. Still, she wanted to look.

Behind her, the fireplace ignited with a whoosh. She turned in surprise – they weren't expecting visitors.

But the first person out of the fireplace allayed her worries. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore," she said happily. "Would you like some tea? Mum lets me use the kettle on my own now."

"Thank you, Meghan, perhaps later. Is your father here?"

The question nonplussed Meghan. It had been drilled into her from infancy that she must never speak of her father outside the walls of her own home, or when there were strangers present, and there were no fewer than three – four, she corrected herself as another person climbed out of the fire. Four strangers in their living room, tracking soot on the carpet, and Professor Dumbledore had mentioned her father as casually as if he were supposed to be living with them...

"Dumbledore, what are you talking about?" said one of the men, echoing Meghan's thoughts. "Surely you don't think Black would be here?"

"Where do you think he lives, Rufus, if not with his family?"

The man called Rufus frowned a little, looking Meghan over with his yellowish eyes. "I could see him visiting, perhaps, sneaking in from time to time, but it's unlikely that he's here now, don't you think?"

"Thus, my question. Is your father here, Meghan?"

Meghan looked at Professor Dumbledore in dismay. What was going on, she tried to ask with her eyes alone – were these Aurors here to take her Dadfoot away? Should she tell the truth, or lie?

"Everything is all right," the Headmaster reassured her, making a small motion with the hand away from the Aurors that reaffirmed what he was saying aloud. "You may speak."

"He's here," said Meghan, squaring her shoulders. No matter what was going on, it was her duty to meet it bravely. "Should I go and get him?"

"If you would."

* * *

Harry woke up a little late that morning, with a feeling of having had a marvelous dream which he couldn't quite recall. They had been celebrating something, something they'd been waiting a long time for. He'd been surrounded by people who liked him, loved him even, and having such a good time that he hadn't wanted to wake up, but she had gently pushed him back to waking, she wouldn't let him stay... 

"Harry, come on, we're going to be late for breakfast."

Harry pulled his bedcurtains back and looked out. One set of blue eyes, two of brown, and one of gray (Ron, Neville, Zelda, and Ray) were regarding him closely. Though now that he looked, Zelda's eyes weren't quite brown, they were more of a hazel color, like his father's had been...

He blinked, breaking the almost-trance he'd been in. "Be ready in a second," he said, and climbed out of bed.

It wasn't quite a second, but it wasn't very many minutes before four boys and one wolf were clattering down the stairs. "I still can't find Scabbers," Ron was saying as they climbed through the portrait hole. "I don't know where he could have gotten to. Maybe he's asleep under the bed or something, and just hasn't gotten hungry enough to come out."

"Trevor's gone too," said Neville gloomily as they walked through the halls. "Probably in the bathroom somewhere. Where are we?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing he'd never seen the hall around him before.

"I'm lost," said Ron bluntly.

Ray blinked a couple of times, and his face seemed to change a little, subtly, but it only lasted a second. "Fourth floor," he said. "And we took a wrong turn at that corridor back there, we wanted to go right, not left." He led the way back to the branching, and proceeded to get them to the Great Hall in three minutes flat.

Ron inhaled the odors of eggs, bacon, kippers, and toast appreciatively. "How'd you do that?" he asked, leading the group into the Hall itself.

Ray shrugged and mumbled something about being lucky, which Harry didn't pay much attention to, since he'd just discovered he was ravenous. The nearest tureen of porridge suffered a catastrophic loss, followed by terrible depredations on the bacon population and rapid depreciation in the area of eggs. Harry grinned – he could use long words too.

_Too? Who am I comparing myself with?_

Fortunately, before he could think too hard about that, Ron elbowed him.

"What?"

"Everybody's looking at you."

It was true. Almost every head in the Great Hall was turned his way, those that weren't hidden behind newspapers.

"Oy, Harry." It was Fred and George, both looking confused. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" asked Harry, bewildered.

For answer, Fred spread out the newspaper he had under his arm.

Two large photographs looked up at Harry. One showed his godfather, much younger than Harry was used to seeing him and laughing maniacally, obviously taken on the day he'd been imprisoned. The other –

Harry's heart leapt. The other photograph was of a fat little man, balding on top, fidgeting nervously in his frame. He knew that face. He'd seen it in pictures from the Marauders' school days often enough.

His eyes flew to the headline.

_**SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT!**_

_**True killer, Peter Pettigrew, captured last night**_

_Black discovered to have been hiding in Surrey_

Wild excitement rose in Harry.

_They found him – they found him – Padfoot's free! Really and truly free! He never has to hide again!_

"Harry," repeated George, joggling his shoulder. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Is Sirius Black really your godfather?"

Harry laughed aloud. "Yes. Yes, he is. He always has been." He picked up the paper, glancing through the article. Bits of phrases leapt out at him... _credibly, but as it seems, wrongfully accused_... _hiding in plain sight, in the home of his wife of ten years_..._ daughter, Meghan, and often sees his godson, Harry Potter_...

"A toast," said Ray from across the table, lifting his glass of pumpkin juice. "To freedom."

"To freedom," answered Harry, touching his goblet to Ray's.

"To freedom," chorused Ron and Neville.

Ray tapped his goblet against Zelda's saucer of juice before drinking from it.

"So how long have you known?" asked Fred, sitting down beside him.

"What's he like?" Neville wanted to know.

"How did he hide all that time?" was Ron's question.

Trying to answer all three at once, Harry failed to notice Ray's appropriation of the newspaper, or his rather wistful look as he held it where Zelda could see it.

* * *

Freedom was a nice toast. 

It would have been an even nicer reality.

* * *

(A/N: OK, am I confusing you yet? Hold on, it gets worse before it gets better. Some of you have correctly guessed about Zelda, and some of you haven't... 

And still no one gets the big secret, which is good, since it's supposed to be (all together now) a secret... so please review plenty, since I need initiative to start on a new chapter of LwoD!)


	11. Zelda

Chapter 11: Zelda

Ray opened one eye and peered out at the world. The birdsong and the scents in the air told him it was past dawn, but the angle of the sunlight on the wall meant not by much. He braced himself for the inevitable...

**Good MOR-ning!**

**Mmmmuuhhhh. **

**You know, you've been saying that for ten years now, and I still don't know what it means. **

**It means, hello, good morning to you too, thank you for mentally shouting in my ear, now will you please go be cheerful somewhere else for a while?**

**Where else would you like me to be cheerful? **

**Anywhere that doesn't have me. **

**Can I stay if I stop being cheerful?**

**Sure. Fine.** Ray pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes again.

Only early training kept him from yelling aloud when a cold nose poked him in the back.

**ZELDA!**

**What?** She had her paws on the edge of the bed and was giving him her most innocent look as he sat up. **That wasn't cheerful. **

**No, it was just bloody annoying... never mind, I know, it's time to get up anyway. Are you just doing this for kicks, or is there something you need to tell me?**

**Both, actually. **Zelda jumped onto the bed and sat facing him. **I wanted to ask how we were going to handle my time of the month while we're here. **

**Oh, hell.** Ray groaned inwardly. **That is coming up, isn't it?**

**I should have it by this weekend at the latest. **

**All right. Saturday. Remind me not to spike your food on Friday night, and you can stay in here all day. You're going to want my wand, aren't you?**

**Of course. **

**I should have known. **

**Yes, you should. Do you think your letter home you wrote yesterday has gotten there yet?**

**Probably. **

**How do you think everyone is taking it? **

**Don't know...**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat completely still at his dining room table, one hand loosely gripping a sheet of parchment. "Gryffindor," he said finally, very quietly. 

Narcissa looked up from her place at the foot of the table, where she was daintily eating porridge. "I beg your pardon, Lucius?"

"Gryffindor, Narcissa. Our son has been Sorted into Gryffindor."

Narcissa nodded. "I thought he might well be," she said. "This is good."

"Good?" Lucius stared at his wife. "No, this is not good! Malfoys are always Slytherins! For one to be a Gryffindor is a sign that something is seriously wrong..."

"No, it is simply a sign that Draco is not exactly like you, Lucius," said Narcissa irritably. "Do look at things sensibly. Tell me this. Do you expect the Dark Lord to return?"

Lucius sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Expect? I know not. Hope for, yes. Wish for, certainly. But expect is too strong a word."

"But you would prefer a future in which he did return to one in which he did not."

"Yes."

"And some, if not all, of your plans are made with regards to that sort of future."

"Indeed."

"Then consider, Lucius, how it will look, when he does return, to be able to say, 'My lord, my son is a member of the House most commonly devoted to the other side and therefore, if not beyond reproach, at least less likely to garner attention from certain faculty members, some of whom are known to favor that house... and my son has access at almost all times to the sleeping place and belongings of one Harry Potter.'"

Lucius sat up straight. "That is true. I had not considered that. Potter is the same age as Draco, and he would most likely be a Gryffindor himself... that is very true."

A smile appeared on his face, one Narcissa knew well. It meant Lucius was losing himself in blissful dreams of a future in which he ruled over hordes of slaves, Muggle and magical, directing where they could go and whom they could see, reveling in their sorrow and humiliation.

She got up and slipped out. She would not be missed. Dobby would bring her breakfast in her room, and she could enjoy some civilized conversation.

She recalled the one thing she had done, all those years ago, which more than any other had secured her the loyalty of their household servants...

* * *

"Lucius." 

They were alone in her bedchamber. Draco, a month-old infant, was in the nursery, being cared for by Dobby. The other members of their household were tending to their own business, which Lucius thought to be one thing, but Narcissa knew to be entirely another.

_But that does not concern us now. _

"Yes, Narcissa?" Her husband looked up from the scrolls he was studying, pale brows drawing in towards the center in a frown.

Sharply she forced down envy and a vain hope, for what never could have been. "I must speak to you about household affairs."

"Then speak."

"Lucius, I know my duties as your wife, none better. I have recently fulfilled one of them."

"Indeed you have, and admirably. Allow me to congratulate you again on such a fine, healthy son as you gave me."

Narcissa concealed her smile and spoke sternly. "But as your wife, I also have rights. I have looked the other way on many occasions, but this will not be one of them, Lucius. I will not tolerate your conduct towards Calpurnia. Turn your eyes away from her, she is not for you."

"Calpurnia?" Lucius looked aghast at her. "Have you gone mad, Narcissa? Why, or how, should I desire an animal?"

"Do not think me foolish, Lucius, I am not. I know quite well what goes on every day in this house, and why certain doors are locked at certain times, and when and how our house and grounds are kept secure. I know that you seek to extend the period when such security may be had, and for all I know you shall succeed. But success or failure, Calpurnia is not to be touched. I will not have that... _thing_... taking my rightful place."

"Then perhaps, madam, you should make more effort to fill your _rightful place_, as you call it! And I will have the equal promise from you, that Caesar's visits to this bedchamber will cease!"

Narcissa laughed coldly. "A shot in the dark, Lucius? You're slipping. But you have my word. Caesar shall not enter this bedroom again, unless you yourself call him here."

"And you have mine, madam," said Lucius angrily, picking up his scrolls. "The chastity of Caesar's wife shall henceforth be without reproach."

* * *

_Thankfully, no promise was necessary in the case of Griselda. Not after he had given her as a present to Draco. Not even he would harm his son's favorite plaything. _

Narcissa amused herself for a moment by picturing Lucius' face if and when he found out that his son's play_thing_ had actually been a play_mate_...

* * *

A few of the teachers protested when Zelda accompanied Ray to class, but the wolf was so well-behaved that by the end of Transfiguration on Thursday, Professor McGonagall had actually smiled at her, something she almost never did. Professor Sprout, in Herbology, was delighted that Zelda could, and did, smell out and dig up some of the Creaking Crocus bulbs she'd planted the previous year, and Professor Flitwick congratulated Ray on having such a well-trained animal after Zelda sat still and allowed him to change her fur different colors. 

"Potions today," said Harry at breakfast on Friday, pouring sugar onto his porridge. "Double Potions, with the Slytherins."

"Wonderful, I can show you Tweedledum and Tweedledee," said Ray, glancing at the Slytherin table. "Otherwise known as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. I think my father may have told their fathers to tell them to watch me. I couldn't get them to leave me alone at the station. I finally had to try talking in words of one syllable." He adopted a very slow, drawling tone. "Buh. Ger. Off."

Ron snickered. "Did it work?"

"Must have. I've barely seen them since."

"Well, that might be because you're a Gryffindor now," said Neville, reaching for the milk. "And they're Slytherins. Did your father expect you to be a Slytherin, d'you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure he did. But I had my own plans."

"Speaking of plans, what are you doing this afternoon?" asked Harry, who had just opened the note Hedwig had brought him.

"Not too much. Why?"

"Hagrid's invited me to tea," said Harry, showing the note around. "I thought some of you might like to come along."

"I'll go," said Neville.

"Sure, why not?" said Ron through a mouthful of sausages.

Ray nodded. "As long as Zelda can come."

"Do you ever go anywhere without her?" asked Ron, swallowing.

"Well, you won't see her at all tomorrow. She's feeling what I call dennish. That means she likes to hide away in a little place, like under my bed, and not come out all day. And she takes my things with her, like my robes, or my wand..."

"Your wand?" asked Harry, looking at Zelda in confusion. "What does she want with your wand?"

Ray shrugged. "Don't know."

* * *

"Precision," said Professor Snape, sweeping around the classroom and glowering into people's cauldrons. "Precision is the key to proper potion-brewing." 

Ron turned his face slightly away from Snape, grinding the snake fangs in his pestle a little finer. Ray was stirring their cauldron carefully, Zelda watching in what looked like fascination.

_It's still not normal,_ Ron thought. _No animal should be that interested in schoolwork. No _human_ should be that interested._

Ray turned away from the cauldron to sort through pine needles. Ron dumped in his crushed snake fangs, then picked up the stirring stick and began to mix them in.

**Look out!** screamed a voice, and something hit him hard, knocking him to the floor, as an explosion went off in his cauldron. If he'd still been leaning over it, he would have gotten it full in the face.

"Thanks," he said breathlessly, looking around at his savior. It had been a girl's voice, it must have been one of the girls who had pushed him...

But it wasn't a girl. It wasn't a human at all.

It was Zelda, breathing hard and looking at him as if she were scared.

_Someone shouted "Look out". Zelda knocked me down. And now she looks scared..._

"Weasley," said a cold voice behind him, and Ron suddenly had other things to worry about than why Draco Malfoy's pet wolf was afraid.

* * *

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor because I stirred the bloody thing the wrong way!" ranted Ron as they climbed out of the dungeon. 

"You'd have been worse off if Zelda hadn't knocked you down," said Neville. "You would have gotten fifteen points off_ and_ a trip to the hospital wing."

"Yeah, about Zelda." Ron stopped, letting Ray and the object of discussion get a little farther ahead than they already were. "Does she seem... odd to either of you?"

"Odd how?" asked Harry. "She follows Ray everywhere, she listens in class better than most of the students, and I think I saw her start to raise her paw once, like she wanted to answer a question." He chuckled. "If she could talk."

"But that's just it. I think maybe she can."

Neville frowned. "A talking wolf? Ron, are you sure you didn't get hit with that explosion after all?"

"No, listen – just before she ran into me, I heard someone yell, 'Look out!' A girl. Did you hear anything, either of you?"

Harry and Neville shook their heads. "No one yelled," said Neville. "We were all just working, and then we heard your potion explode."

"And when we looked up, you were on the floor with a wolf on top of you," said Harry. "Maybe you hit your head and you're hearing things. Come on, let's get lunch."

The afternoon was uneventful, except for an encounter between Zelda and Mrs. Norris, involving a great deal of growling on one side and spitting on the other, but no actual bloodshed. The boys meandered down to Hagrid's hut around three o'clock.

Hagrid let them in, holding back his boarhound, Fang, who started making friends with Zelda immediately Hagrid let him go, then licked all the boys' ears thoroughly as Harry introduced them.

"So, great news abou' Sirius," said Hagrid, pouring out tea for everyone. "An' how long've you known and never told no one?"

"All my life, pretty much," said Harry tiredly. "Everyone wants to know about him this last week, everyone's asking questions... except you, Ray," he said suddenly, turning to the blond boy. "You haven't asked me one thing about him, I just realized that. Why not?"

Ray grinned. "Why should I? Everyone else already asked everything I wanted to, I heard you when you answered them, so why ask you questions over again?"

"Thank you," said Harry heartily. "I wish I could just write up a little sheet of answers and give them out to anyone who asks. Yes, I like having him around. No, he isn't mean to me. Yes, he likes to play jokes. No, he's never hurt me. On and on and on."

"I just can't believe he was always there," said Neville, blowing on his tea. "I was at your house – Mrs. Black's house – lots of times, and he was always there, but I never saw him. I never even knew he was there."

"That would be creepy," said Ron. "I mean, if you did know that someone was there, but you never saw them. They just sneaked around where you couldn't see them."

"Like living with a house-elf," said Ray. "Or..." He stopped.

"Or what?" asked Harry.

"Nothing."

Zelda came away from her game of chase-Fang's-tail to rub against his shins comfortingly.

"So, let's see yeh here, little lady," said Hagrid, reaching over to pick her up. She yipped in surprise, but let him lift her into his lap, where she looked more like a spaniel or a terrier than the mostly-grown wolf she was. "Hmm, now where'd yeh get her, Ray?"

"She was a gift from my father, sir. A belated first birthday present."

"So yeh've had her a while, then."

"Yes, sir. All my life."

"Don' go callin' me sir, I won' know who yer talkin' ta," said Hagrid with his booming laugh as he stroked Zelda, examining her closely. "Now this's interestin', this is... see her tail, here? 'Snot supposed ter be like that."

"Like what?" asked Ron, peering at it.

"Like it is. With the tuft on the end, like. Wolves have long, smooth tails. An' the way her face is shaped, an' these claws o'hers... 'f I didn' know better, I'd say she was a werewolf, not a true wolf at all." Hagrid laughed again. "But she can't be, o'course. Werewolves only have that shape at full moon, and this little lady stays this way all the time, don' she?"

Ray nodded.

"So I'd imagine yer father thought she might scare people off a little better if he made her look like a werewolf. Yeh'll have ter ask him sometime."

"Will you?" asked Neville as they walked back to the castle later. "Ask your father if he changed how Zelda looked?"

"No, probably not." Ray was squinting up at the setting sun. "I know he must have, so there's no point." He scratched his arm, frowning. "I need to get back to the dorm, there's something I have to do."

* * *

Saturday was fair and sunny, with barely any clouds at all. As Ray had predicted, Zelda was nowhere to be seen when they got up that morning. He peered under his bed. "She's there," he announced. "And doesn't look like she wants company. And since she's got claws and sharp teeth and I don't, it's usually best to do what she wants." 

"But can't you control her?" asked Ron. "Make her do what you want?"

"Usually, yes," said Ray, tapping his wrist, where he wore a green leather bracelet inscribed with symbols. "But on her den days, I don't think even my father would try. She's very grouchy."

A snarl came from under the bed.

"As you see."

The boys spent the morning outdoors, chasing each other and lounging in the sun, and the afternoon doing homework in the Gryffindor common room. Halfway through his Potions homework, Ron realized he needed to look at the label on one of the bottles of ingredients in the dorm. "I'll be right back," he said, standing up. No one even noticed.

As he climbed the stairs, Ron realized something was slightly out of place. Not anything he could see, no, this was something he could hear...

A girl's voice. He could hear a girl's voice, talking and humming. He shouldn't be able to – the girls had their own stairs leading to their own dorms.

And as he got closer, he realized that the voice was coming from inside his own dorm...

He opened the door quietly and peered around it.

She was dancing in the middle of the floor. Her robes were blue, not Hogwarts black, and looked rather worn. Her feet were bare, and her brown frizzy hair was everywhere at once. She was about his own age, but she was no one Ron had ever seen before. He stared at her, fascinated.

Suddenly, she seemed to realize she had an audience. She whirled, and one hand went to her pale throat as her eyes widened in fear.

"I won't hurt you," said Ron quickly, opening the door all the way to show that he wasn't hiding anything behind it. "Only – who are you?"

Instead of answering, the girl backed away, hands up in a warding gesture, feeling her way back with her feet on the floor. "Go away," she said in a hoarse voice. "Please, go away."

"Why? This's my dorm, I live here. What are you doing here?"

"Just..." She seemed stumped for an answer. "Just being. And practicing magic." She drew a wand out of her robes and pointed it at him. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow," she chanted. "Turn your robes and hair bright yellow."

Ron felt a little whoosh of magic go past him and looked down to see that his robes had, indeed, turned yellow. He ran across the room to the mirror and stared. "I look like Ray!"

"No, you don't." She was standing two beds away from him, regarding him through the open curtains. "You look like you, only with yellow hair and robes. _Finite._"

The reflection in the mirror now had the familiar Weasley red hair, and Ron could see for himself that his robes were black again. "Thank you," he said. "It's very nice of you."

"You're welcome." She slid the wand away again. "And you're welcome for saving your life. Or at least your face."

"Saving my... what are you talking about?"

"When I knocked you over in Potions yesterday."

"When you..." Ron cut off at the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs. Ray erupted into the room, looked from one of them to the other, and moaned, dropping his face into his hands.

"That's right, just stand there and don't do anything useful," the girl snapped with one of the most abrupt mood changes Ron had ever seen, even from his mother. "Don't shut the door or anything like that."

Ray turned to do just that, but before he could reach the door, Harry and Neville had appeared in the doorway, gaping at the intruder in their bedroom.

"Who's she?" asked Neville. "And how'd she get in here?"

Harry came into the room, looking at the girl. "Have we met?" he asked. "You look familiar."

"It's the eyes," said Ray from behind his hands. "The eyes are the same."

Ron, Harry, and Neville promptly all looked at the girl's eyes. They did remind Ron of something. Soft hazel, bright, intelligent, amused... and she'd said that about knocking him down in Potions...

"Zelda!" he blurted.

The girl smiled, a little shyly, and nodded.

Ray was now leaning against the door he'd closed. "This is a disaster," he said weakly.

"No, this is not a disaster," said Zelda, sticking out her tongue and staring at him. He stared back at her, and they held eye contact for a long moment, then dropped it.

"No wonder you wanted everyone to leave her alone," said Harry.

"And no wonder she's so bloody smart," said Ron, suddenly angry for no reason he could imagine. "Your pet wolf is a human!"

"She's not my pet!" shouted Ray, glaring at him. "She's never been!"

"Then what is she?" asked Neville rationally, looking from girl to boy.

"She's..." Ray looked at Zelda. "She's... well... she's something like my sister. We didn't have the same parents or anything..."

"Obviously," interpolated Zelda. "I mean, just look at us. We don't look a thing alike."

"But we've been together since we were babies. That much is true." Ray sat down on the foot of his bed. "Zel got hit with a bad curse during the war. She was just a baby then, and no one knew what it would do to her. It turned out to do two things."

"It makes me change shapes when the sun rises and sets," said Zelda. "Human during the day, wolf at night."

"But you've been a wolf all the time we've seen you," said Harry. "Day and night. Why?"

"The other thing that happened," said Ray, "was that every time she changed, her body got a little older. Older than it should. So if she'd just kept changing all the time, she would have died of old age by the time she was twenty."

"It's because wolves age faster than humans," said Zelda. "They had to find a way to keep me from changing, and they found a potion I could take – but it would only work if I kept my wolf form, not my human one."

"That's better than dying at age twenty, though," said Neville.

Zelda nodded. "That was what my parents thought too. But the potion has bad side effects if I take it too long without a break. So about once a month, I have to have one day where I change normally."

"But then how'd you end up with Ray?" asked Ron. "Following him around, being his sort-of pet?"

Zelda looked at the floor. "My parents were killed later in the war," she said. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy took me in and made me Ray's guardian so I could earn my keep. It's not like it's bad, I mean, I'm at school, I can learn, and at least I'm alive."

"So that's why the Hat Sorted you," said Harry. "Because you're really human."

Zelda smiled. "I guess I am." Her smile vanished. "But you can't tell anyone about me. No one, do you understand? No one at all."

"But..." Ron began to protest. "Professor McGonagall has to know... you ought to be in the girls' dorm... you ought to be a student..."

Zelda shook her head. "I'm not old enough," she said. "My birthday's not until the middle of the month, I really shouldn't be here until next year. But that doesn't matter. Please, you have to promise not to tell anyone, anyone, that I'm human. You have to."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because if you tell anyone, she might die," said Ray quietly. "That was one of the effects of the curse. If anyone knew she was human, or said her name out loud, she'd die."

"But... we've been saying her name," said Neville, looking baffled. "You said it yourself... or does it not count if it's a nickname?"

Ray smiled a little sheepishly. "Well, Zelda's not actually her real name," he said. "Though it's the only one I've ever called her by. If we ever do get that curse off, I'm going to have a hard time remembering to call you the other one," he added to her.

"I'll be sure to remind you," she said, baring her teeth at him for a moment.

"What is her real name, then?" asked Ron.

"We can't tell you that," said Zelda, looking at him down her nose. "Unless you want me to die."

"But you said if anyone knew she was human," protested Ron. "And we've all just found out right now."

"Well, it's not quite if anyone found out," said Ray slowly, as if he were thinking it through. "I think it's more like if we tell anyone. You all found out on accident. And she's not dead yet, so I think we're okay."

"I like that," said Zelda acidly. "Not dead _yet._"

"You're not."

Zelda took a swipe at him, which he dodged. "So you understand why you can't tell anyone," he said, looking around at them. "It means her life. Really, it does. You have to swear, wizard's honor, not to tell."

Harry held up his hand. "On my word as a wizard, I will never tell anyone Zelda is a human," he said. Neville echoed him.

Ron looked at Zelda. "I want you to promise something first," he said.

"What?"

"Don't look when I'm changing my clothes?"

Zelda laughed. "All right. I promise. Witch's honor."

Ron held up his right hand and gave his word not to tell anyone that Draco Malfoy's sort-of pet wolf was really a human.

"It was me in Potions, by the way," said Zelda a little later, when they were all sitting around talking. "I can talk when I'm the wolf. But it comes out in your mind, not in your ears." She brightened. "I can talk to you all now, now that you know!"

"She's really helpful in class," said Ray. "She's read all my books, and I think she has them memorized. She always knows the answers to everything."

They talked for a long time, with occasional breaks for snacks (Ray had a large stash in his trunk, including drinks in miniature potion bottles). At sunset, Zelda returned Ray his wand, and all four boys watched in fascination as she lay down on the floor on her side, squirmed, writhed, twisted, and finally got back up again, sleek and furry and grey.

"Does it hurt?" asked Neville.

**Not really. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt. It sort of itches when my fur grows, though.**

Ray scratched his leg furiously. "That's probably fleas," he said. "And you gave them to me."

**HEY!** Harry, Ron, and Neville winced as Zelda's furious shout exploded in their minds. **Sorry,** she said quickly, looking apologetically around at them. **I keep forgetting you're not used to this. **

Ron shook his head. "I think it's going to take me a long time to get used to it," he said. "A very long time."

* * *

Later that night, Harry couldn't sleep. Zelda's face was still bothering him. He didn't buy Ray's story that he'd recognized her eyes from her wolf form. He'd seen her face before somewhere, or a face very like it, but he just couldn't remember where... 

His eyes drifted shut, and he fell into dreams, dreams of the way his life should have been, dreams where he had parents, where Padfoot had never had to hide, where Wormtail had never gone bad, and where the little girl who lived at number seventeen, Privet Drive, was not named Meghan Black, but something entirely different.

* * *

(A/N: So, I hope this answers some of the questions about Zelda. And if you believed all that stuff she and Ray were spinning to the other boys, I have a bridge to sell you... 

Sorry about LwoD. It will be ready before this weekend is over, I promise. I thought I was going to write it tonight, I swear I did, but this insisted on being written instead! I will really try to get it going as soon as possible... and remember, reviews make everything more possible...)


	12. Letters and Lessons

Chapter 12: Letters and Lessons

Sirius paced around the music room on Sunday afternoon. "I suppose I should be glad they've improved," he growled. "They were only able to hang onto me for a day. It took Wormtail almost a week to escape."

Aletha carefully did not point out the differences between the two sets of circumstances, since Sirius needed no more encouragement to be in a bad mood. "At least everyone knows the truth now," she said instead. "And they'll be on the lookout for him. Parents will be checking over their children's pet rats carefully."

Sirius sighed. "I know. I just can't shake this feeling that he's going to pull something really bad, you know? Something we shouldn't let him do... except we can't stop him now that he's gone, so we should have stopped him while we had him, but it's too late to do anything now..."

"And on that note, let us change the subject," said Aletha firmly, recognizing the signs of Sirius about to work himself into one of his famous spiraling moods. "Have you written to Remus yet this week?"

"No, thank you for reminding me – I'll have to do that before tonight..." Sirius spun a chair around and straddled it, leaning on the back. "Why do we still do that, anyway?"

"I guess it's because if we stop, it's like saying they're really gone. Or maybe it's just force of habit by now." Aletha laughed a little, sadly. "It has been twelve years. Twelve years this Halloween."

Sirius rested his chin on his arms and looked at her. "Can I ask you what might sound like a strange question?"

"All right."

"Do you ever get answers to your letters to Danger? Not in real life, but... somewhere else?"

Aletha paused halfway through turning a page in her music book. "Maybe," she said carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"They had twins around the time James and Lily had Harry," said Sirius instead of answering.

Aletha nodded. "Boy and girl. Reynard and Griselda."

"Danger's taken up a new hobby in the past couple of years."

"Writing poetry. She's sent me a few, they're beautiful, but very sad."

"Wherever they are, they're well-connected on the gossip chain."

"Oh, you mean that thing about Deianara Nott and the busboy at the Leaky Cauldron? I almost broke a rib laughing over that."

Sirius shook his head. "Bizarre," he said. "I was honestly expecting you to look at me and say, 'What are you talking about?' And instead you know everything right off the top of your head..."

"I dream of getting letters," said Aletha quietly. "Letters from Danger. She answers my questions, sometimes not very clearly, but I guess she can't, or doesn't want to. She asks me some of her own, and tells me the news for the week from wherever she is. And it's all so much like her, I can almost hear her voice reading it to me."

Sirius nodded slowly. "I get mine from Moony," he said. "Makes sense, I guess, since that's who we write to."

"Why didn't you ever tell me before this?"

"I suppose I was too afraid to find out you didn't get answers and I was just making it up to make myself feel better. But if we both get them, maybe there's something to it after all..."

Aletha saw a certain hope kindling in Sirius' eyes which hadn't been there for years. As happy as she was, she couldn't help worrying.

_What if we're wrong? What if it's just a bunch of coincidences, or that we think similarly, or that we're somehow linking our dreams in a way that has nothing to do with Remus and Danger?_

But if she couldn't help worrying, she also couldn't help hoping.

It had been so long since she'd had any real reason to.

* * *

Ray went to bed early on Sunday night, claiming he didn't feel well.

**He's just homesick,** said Zelda, **and he doesn't want anyone to see him cry. **

"Should you be telling us this?" asked Harry, looking towards the stairs where Ray had gone.

**I won't tell him I told if you won't. **

Ray's bedcurtains were pulled when the other boys went to bed. Instead of leaping onto the bed as she usually did, Zelda lay down on the rug at the foot.

**He really wants to be alone,** she said as Ron blew out the candle.

One good crying jag must have done the trick, Harry thought, because Ray looked perfectly normal on Monday morning, even better than usual. He got as excited as everyone else over the notice on the board about flying lessons, and was as thoroughly disgusted about having them with Slytherin.

Zelda was a big help in class. She wouldn't give them answers outright (at least, not often), but she kept up a running commentary as the teachers lectured, which made things much clearer generally.

"Ray, can I see your History of Magic notes?" asked Neville on Wednesday night.

"Er, from today?"

"Yes."

"Sorry, no."

"Why not?"

"I haven't written them yet."

"How can you not have written them?" asked Ron. "We had class already. Do you have a perfect memory or something?"

Ray grinned. "No, but I know somebody who does." His eyes flickered down to the low table, where Zelda was nosing through Neville's notes.

"So that's why you were taking a nap," said Harry. "You can just get the notes off Zelda later."

**He claims I owe it to him because he has to do all the homework,** said Zelda absently. **Not that I don't help with that too... these don't look too bad, Neville, you're just missing a couple points here and here, and I can give them to you...**

Thursday afternoon was clear and breezy, and Harry couldn't help but feel excited about the prospect of flying. He'd never flown before that he could recall – it had always been too difficult for Letha to manage everything that would have been necessary for a flying holiday – but he knew that his father had been fabulous on a broom, and had taken him out once or twice as a baby, to his own delight and his mother's irritation.

"That's not right, not right at all," snapped Madam Hooch, prying Ray's fingers off his broom. "Who taught you to grip that way?"

"My dad," said Ray.

"Well, you can tell him from me that he taught you entirely wrong. This is how you do it." She rearranged his hands and moved on to the next person.

Ray snickered. "No wonder Dad's not much good on a broom," he said over his shoulder to Harry.

Within a few minutes, they were taking short, practice flights, just up a few feet and back down. Harry loved it, it was everything he'd thought it would be, and his only annoyance was that he wasn't allowed to go as far, as fast, or as long as he would have liked.

"Now, split into groups of five and we'll cover some basic flying etiquette," Madam Hooch ordered. "You, you, you, you, and you. First five."

Harry had been "you" number three, Ray number four, and Neville number five. Numbers one and two were the hulking Slytherins Ray said had been trying to follow him around, Crabbe and Goyle.

"You there, Goyle, you're big, so you're at point." Madam Hooch pulled him into position. "You two, Crabbe and Malfoy, you're behind him, and Potter and Longbottom, behind them – not directly behind, spread out, make a V shape, take advantage of the wake. Now, on my whistle, take off. Point man, fly to that oak over there..." She pointed out the tree, a handsome specimen about sixty feet high. "Turn around and return. You others, stay in formation behind him. Outside men on the turn, give your partners plenty of room, inside men, turn tight. Ready?"

The whistle sounded. Five brooms rose from the grass.

It was easier taking advantage of Crabbe's wake, Harry found. He kept his eyes on Goyle to see which way he turned at the tree, so that he, Harry, would know if he were inside or outside for the formation turn...

Goyle turned to the right, Harry would be on the outside. He swung his broom slightly to the left, preparing to turn –

Crabbe turned too tightly and slammed into Ray. Neville, unable to stop in time, plowed into both of them. As if in slow motion, Harry saw Ray, unfamiliar with the new grip Madam Hooch had shown him, lose his hold on his broom and slip off, starting to fall...

Harry shot under the tangle of people just in time to grab Ray by the arm. "Hold on," he panted, and dived, slowing down well before he got to the ground, until he was hovering about six feet up, close enough for Ray to let go and drop to the grass. Then he landed, feeling his heart pounding, but with excitement, not with fear.

The most prominent thought in his mind was, _I want to do that again. _

"Well done, Potter," said Madam Hooch, arriving beside them. "Malfoy, are you all right?"

"Yes'm," said Ray. "Neville, can you grab my broom?" he shouted up.

"I can try." Neville had managed to stay mounted through this, and had been disentangling from Crabbe while Harry saved Ray. Now he flew over to where Ray's broom was hovering, took a hold of it, and came down in a careful spiral, landing a bit sloppily but without hurting himself about ten feet away from them.

"Thanks," said Ray, jogging over to retrieve the broom.

"Harry Potter," called a voice from the direction of the castle. Everyone turned to look.

Professor McGonagall was striding toward them. "Can you spare him for a few moments, Rolanda?" she said to Madam Hooch when she was near enough.

"Of course, Minerva. I'll take your broom, Potter..."

"No, he'll be needing it," said Professor McGonagall. "Come along, Potter." She set off along the wall of the castle. Harry followed, feeling a bit bemused. What would she need him to do that required a broom?

"Have you ever flown before?" she asked as they turned the corner.

"No, Professor."

Professor McGonagall let out a loud sigh. "Wonderful," she said, stopping. "All right, Potter, mount up."

Harry straddled his broom, wondering what this was all about. Professor McGonagall drew her wand and waved it in a small circle in the air. A sphere of glimmering gold, about the size of a golf ball, appeared there, and she caught it as it fell. "Do you think you can catch this?" she asked, holding it up.

Harry was trying hard not to let himself get too excited. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, then, do it." Professor McGonagall threw the ball high into the air.

For an older witch, she had a good arm, Harry registered as he kicked off. The ball was moving at a good clip, but even on this less than stellar broom, he knew he could get to it in plenty of time... closer... closer...

His hand closed around it about ten feet off the ground, and he returned to Professor McGonagall at that height, dropping it into her waiting palm.

"Again," she said briskly, and threw it more laterally this time, so that he had to fly faster to catch it before it hit the ground, but he still made it with five feet to spare.

"And once more." This time she threw it straight up, and Harry, feeling like showing off, flew into its path as it fell and let it carom off the stick of his broom before chasing after it and catching it.

"Was that intentional?" said Professor McGonagall sternly as he returned the ball to her and landed.

"Yes, Professor," said Harry meekly.

She shook her head. "Your father's son all over. Well, Potter, do you know Oliver Wood? At least to look at him?"

Harry nodded – Fred and George had pointed out the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team within the first two days of school.

"Introduce yourself to him at some point as the Gryffindor team's new Seeker, and ask him when practices begin."

Harry closed his mouth quickly and simply nodded.

"You have no broomstick of your own, I am sure, since that would be against the rules... but I have no doubt your godfather will be glad to, shall we say, donate a broom to the school with the intention that you use it during practices and games." She held out her hand, and Harry took it. "Congratulations, Potter. Your parents would have been proud."

She walked away, leaving Harry staring after her, hanging onto his broom for support.

* * *

"You lucky _bastard!_" exploded Ron in the Great Hall.

"That's great, Harry!" enthused Neville.

"And I went and fell off in front of her," grumbled Ray. "She'll never think I'm any good."

"She doesn't make the decisions about it," said Harry, taking a big bite of shepherd's pie. "Only in special cases, like this, because I'm a first year and not supposed to have a broom."

**But she's going to get... your godfather to donate one, she said?**

"Yes, so it won't be mine, but I can still ride it." Harry drained his goblet of pumpkin juice and refilled it.

"I wonder what kind you'll get," said Ron. "Seekers need to be really fast. Maybe you'll get a Cleansweep Seven."

"Or the new Nimbus, the Two Thousand," said Neville. "They're fantastic, from what I hear."

Ray nodded. "I'd really like a Nimbus," he said. "Mother said maybe for my next birthday."

"When is your birthday?" asked Harry curiously.

"5 June. Yours?"

"31 July. How about everyone else?"

"1 March," said Ron. "I was early."

"30 July, right before you," said Neville. "Mum likes to tell stories about being in the same hospital room with your mum."

**19 September. **

"Hey, that's coming up," said Ron. "We'll have to have a party."

**Oh – no, please don't.** Zelda ducked her head modestly. **I really don't need anything like that.**

"What about just a little one?" coaxed Ray. "Just the five of us, sneak down to the kitchens and cadge stuff out of the house-elves?"

"You know where the kitchens are?" asked Ron in surprise.

Ray nodded. "Right down the same hall as the Hufflepuff common room, behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear, it giggles and turns into a door handle."

"Wow," said Neville, sounding deeply impressed. "How do you know so much about the castle, anyway?"

"My dad likes to know a lot about wherever he is. So he learned all about Hogwarts while he was here, and he taught me. Some of my favorite bedtime stories when I was little were about how to get places inside the castle."

* * *

Zelda's birthday came and went, with the party in the kitchens being a great success, and October was on them before they knew it. Oliver Wood had been skeptical about Professor McGonagall's decision to add a first year to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, until he saw Harry fly. "Practices are Monday, Thursday, and Saturday at seven," was all he'd said when Harry landed. "Don't be late, and don't skip."

One evening early in October, Ray yawned ostentatiously. "Blimey, I'm tired," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I think I'll turn in early. Don't tromp around like a herd of erumpents when you come to bed, all right?"

"It's not even seven o'clock," said Harry in surprise. "And you're nowhere near done with the reading for Charms."

"I'll finish it in bed, then. Come on, Zelda."

**No, I think I want to stay up tonight.**

"Fine, be that way," said Ray in mock-offense. "Good night, everyone."

"Good night," rippled around the small group as Ray ran up the stairs.

"He doesn't look too tired right now," said Ron, dipping his quill. "Neville, what were those things we looked at in Herbology called again?"

"Which ones, the ones that scream or the ones that pinch?"

* * *

_Dear friends,_

_Irony is rampant in our world. My work suggests the last item I search for may be closer to you than it is to me. I have kept you up to date on the progress I make, so you will know what it is I seek. Any assistance you can render would be greatly appreciated. _

'_Mithrandir'_

* * *

Zelda turned human again that Saturday, and the boys spent most of the day in their dorm with her.

"Things taste different," she said, sucking on a piece of Chocolate Frog. "When I'm human, I like sweeter things than I do when I'm a wolf. And I eat some things when I'm a wolf that I would probably never eat when I'm human."

"Like what?" asked Neville.

Zelda grinned. "Raw meat."

"Gross!" said Ron.

"It's actually really good. A little slimy, but so's pudding, and I've seen you eat that."

Ron looked disgusted at the thought that pudding could be compared to raw meat.

"So are you just going to keep doing this all through school?" asked Harry. "Turning human once a month, and being the wolf all the rest of the time?"

"Unless someone finds a way to take the curse off, I have to do it for the rest of my life," said Zelda sadly.

Neville looked up from his Bertie Bott's beans and frowned. "Zelda, don't you usually wear a collar when you're the wolf?"

"Yes. Usually."

"Where did it go? Does it disappear when you turn human?"

"No, Ray takes it off me."

Ray reached behind him, under his bed, and produced a strap of green leather. "It itches when she's human," he said. "Besides, it doesn't look right. Humans shouldn't wear collars."

"Your bracelet looks just like that," said Harry, pointing to Ray's right wrist. "Does it mean something?"

Ron frowned. "I've seen bracelet and collar sets like that before," he said. "Charlie said once he wished he had one that would work on dragons... they're for controlling dangerous animals!"

Ray held up his hands, Zelda's collar still dangling from one. "Hold on. Yes, that's what they're for, but that's not how I use them. I swear."

"So how do you use them?" asked Harry, since Ron still looked mad enough to bite something.

"My father got them for us," said Ray, looking at the collar with distaste. "Because people can't know Zel's human, they think she's dangerous. So they look to see if I have one of these, and when they see I do, they let her come in places, because they think I have her under control so she won't hurt people or destroy things."

"So it's an act," said Neville. "So you can go places, Zelda."

Zelda nodded.

Ron scowled. "I still don't like it," he said.

"Nor do I," said Zelda in a flash of temper, "but it's that or not being allowed to stay at Hogwarts, and I know which one I choose!"

"And you're the one who has to wear it." Neville nodded. "So what you say, goes."

"When you do use them on animals," said Harry, looking at the bracelet again, "could anyone wear the bracelet and control the animal?"

"Usually," said Ray. "Sometimes they're sealed to one person, and only he can give other people permission to wear it. Usually only the person who wears the bracelet can do anything with the collar, either. Like loosen it, or take it off. I'd give Zel the bracelet so she could control it herself and get a fake one for me, only she won't take it."

"People might want to test yours to see if it's real or not," said Zelda. They had obviously had this argument before. "And I haven't got anywhere to hide it, it won't go into holding like my clothes do – be sensible, Ray, the way we have it is the only way it works."

"I know." Ray put the collar back under his bed. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

He walked through the house as light-footed as any cat, moving surely and swiftly to his destination, where he knelt and unfastened the catch, avoiding all the traps set around it for the unwary. Unwary was something he could not afford to be.

Many items resided in the cache he uncovered, but he was interested in only one.

_It's wonderfully ridiculous, this. He thought it would be safe here. He thought it would be so safe, he felt free to brag about it. And now, thanks to a few kindnesses shown..._

He lifted it out and summoned his accomplice, who quickly cleaned away all traces he might have left on the items in the cache, physical or magical. No one would be able to trace the theft of this object to him.

He closed the lid again and slipped out of the room, leaving his friend to finish the eradication of their tracks. There was one thing he needed to make sure of before he could go through with this.

She was lounging in a chair in the library, immersed in a book, but looked up at his approach. "You have it?"

He held it up. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, sitting down beside her. "You know you'll be ill for at least a week. More likely two."

She gave him one of those looks that he sometimes told her she should patent. "You paid pretty heavily for a week or so after that night I needed mine, and I don't recall hearing you complain. Why should you expect me to?"

He sighed. "I don't. I just wanted to be sure."

She smiled. "Always trying to protect me. I think it's why I love you."

"All right. Let's get you back to our room before I do this."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"I'm glad you think so."

She squealed as he lifted her out of the chair and carried her down the hallway.

Returning to their room was a good idea for a number of reasons. The obvious, of course, but it would be quite bad for them if they were discovered elsewhere than where they ought to be. As well, it might expose one of their allies, and that would never do.

It made them laugh, sometimes, to think of how different the household's true structure was from the one that outsiders perceived.

* * *

Ray sat up straight for a second, then got up and went to get parchment and quill.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry.

"I just had an idea," said Ray absently. "I want to write it down before it gets away..."

Zelda came to peer over his shoulder, leaning on him trustingly. Ron bit the head off a Chocolate Frog card by mistake, watching them.

"There, done." Ray blew on the ink to dry it. "'Scuse me, everyone, I need to run upstairs for a minute." He folded the parchment, scribbled two words on the outside of it, and slipped out of the door, closing it carefully behind himself.

"Where's he going?" asked Ron. "What's upstairs from here?"

"Not much," said Harry, thinking about the castle. "Only a few of the towers are taller than this, and there's not many classrooms up this high..."

"There's the Owlery," said Neville. "That looked like a letter."

"It's none of your business," said Zelda reprovingly as she came to sit back down with them.

"Oh, and it is yours?" asked Ron.

"Yes, as it happens, it is!"

Ron looked like he wanted to say something rude, but Harry glared at him, and he shut up.

* * *

_Dear sir,_

_Mission accomplished. The item is no longer in any way intact. Still, be on your guard. There has been much talk about 'Grima' here lately, and may even have been correspondence. A possibility of the items' owner returning has been broached. Take good care of 'Arthur'._

_Your friends in low places_

* * *

_Dear Mother,_

_Everything continues fine here. Yes, I am getting plenty of fresh air. We go outside almost every evening, and stay out until eight o'clock, which is when we must be back in the castle. We often have to run to make curfew. We play by the Forbidden Forest, though never in it, since that is both dangerous and against the rules. _

_Classes go well. Professor Snape compliments my brewing nearly every Friday, and Professor McGonagall is very fair, occasionally more fair than I would like her to be. _

_Tell Calpurnia that I am being sure to eat my vegetables. Give my regards to her and Caesar both, and to you, of course. Zelda sends her best also. _

_Your son_

* * *

(A/N: So, understanding yet? Never mind, you will... because action starts next chapter for sure, and soon after action starts, all becomes clear... :sighs in happiness at the thought of the delighted/amazed squeals when she unveils the truth:

LwoD, as I said, sometime this weekend. Maybe as early as tomorrow, depending on what else I get done. Free spans of time are wonderful. Please don't forget to review! I need your love!)


	13. Dream Come True

Chapter 13: Dream Come True

"It's amazing," said Harry, lying in the warm glow of the setting sun outside the Forbidden Forest. "It does not feel like we've been here two months."

"More like two weeks, or two days even." Ron was lying head to head with him, their feet pointing in opposite directions. Their heads weren't touching, though; there was something in between them.

**I guess I don't lose track of time as easily,** said that something. **Because I have the once a month changes. But I know what you mean. It almost doesn't seem real that tomorrow's Halloween.**

"Professor Flitwick said we're going to start levitation tomorrow," said Neville, who was making the west to Harry's north, his feet pointing back towards the castle. "Wasn't that amazing, when he made Trevor fly around the room like that?"

"And my dad and mum say Hogwarts holiday feasts are fantastic," said Ray, who completed the circle with his feet pointing towards the forest. "Better than even Dobby can do."

"Who's Dobby?" asked Harry.

"Our house-elf. I like him, he practically brought me up... what was that?"

"What was what?" asked Ron, sitting up.

"I thought I saw something." Ray was sitting up too. "In the forest. It almost looked like a centaur!"

"I think there are centaurs in there," said Neville. "They live there, but they don't like humans much."

"Maybe we can go in and have a look." Ray got to his feet. "Just a quick peek before we go inside."

"Why should we go in?" asked Harry. "It's not nearly curfew yet."

"I have something I need to do. But there's time beforehand to look for a centaur."

Zelda stood up and sniffed. **I don't smell centaur,** she said dubiously. **I smell... I don't know what I smell. But I don't think it's centaur. **

"Have you ever smelled centaur before?" asked Ron.

**No.**

"Then how do you know?"

**I... I guess I don't. But I'm not sure about this, Ray. Didn't Hagrid say there were things in the Forest that shouldn't be there?**

"He said the animals were restless," recalled Harry, thinking back to their last visit with Hagrid, a few days before. "But he said it would pass off soon, too. Come on, Zelda, we're only going a few steps in. We won't even lose sight of the castle. How bad can it be?"

**I don't like questions like that,** grumbled Zelda. **They're looking for the wrong answers.**

But she trotted ahead of the boys, into the forest, sniffing around.

**This is odd,** she announced as they came up to the clearing where she'd stopped.

"What is?" asked Neville.

**It's not a smell, exactly. It's more like a... not-smell. As if there ought to be a smell here, but there isn't. **She lifted her nose into the air. **But there are some very nice flowers around here somewhere. **

Neville sniffed the air himself, then gasped in delight. "Nicholas blooms!"

"What's that?" asked Ron.

"They're rare, even in cultivation – I had no idea they grew around here!" Neville hurried off between the trees.

"I'll go with him," said Ray. "Just so he doesn't get totally lost."

"So what do we get to do?" asked Harry as Ray vanished behind a tree.

"Don't know." Ron looked around. "Look at the trees and the rocks, I guess." He bent down and picked up a largish pebble. "Look at this one. All smooth. And then this one right next to it is spiky all over."

Harry accepted both rocks and ran a finger along them. "I wonder how they got that way." He dropped the smooth one to the ground and slipped the jagged one into his pocket.

Ron shivered slightly. "Does this place seem a bit creepy to you?" he asked.

"A bit. I almost feel like we're being watched..."

Zelda turned around to say something, but instead howled in alarm. **DUCK!**

Harry and Ron flung themselves flat on the ground as Zelda leapt over them, snarling. Harry looked up just in time to see a red flash of light catch her in mid-leap and drop her to the ground. He was already fumbling for his wand, Ron doing the same, as two men in white masks and black cloaks emerged from behind the trees...

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at one of them.

The man's legs snapped together, and he fell to the ground with a curse. Ron rolled out of the way of a spell from the other one and aimed his wand. "_Incendiam Azuris!_"

The robes of the wizard not lying on the ground burst into bright blue flame in several places.

_We're not going to be able to keep this up for long,_ Harry thought desperately. _We have to run..._

* * *

Neville bent over the plant he had found, sniffing the wonderful odor happily. It was like the aroma of a cake fresh out of the oven, just begging to be eaten. "I'll have to tell Professor Sprout they're here, she'll want to take a few of them for the greenhouse. They're very useful. If you eat them, they give you a burst of energy." 

"I think I've heard of them," said Ray, fingering the blue and green blossoms. "Aren't they an ingredient in some energy-restoring potions?"

"I don't know..."

A howl snapped both boys upright instantly.

"Zelda!" Ray gasped. "Something's wrong!"

They pelted back to the clearing where they'd left Ron and Harry and froze in the space between two trees. Neville's eyes were fixed on the battle, but Ray, he noticed suddenly, was staring at the wizard who was now putting out the flames on his robes with his wand. He had pushed his sleeve back to do so more safely, revealing a bracelet very like Ray's own.

"Father," Ray breathed, his eyes far away. Suddenly he turned to Neville. "Neville, listen to me. You have to do something, and you have to do it now."

"What?"

"Hit me, and run."

"Hit you? Why?"

"Please, don't ask. Just do it. Run to the castle, tell them Lucius Malfoy got onto the grounds and kidnapped Harry and Ron, he's taking them to his manor... please, Neville, you're our only chance to get help, you have to..."

Neville glanced once more at the battle, which Harry was now fighting alone, Ron having been felled by a hex. Without speaking, he put the flower he'd picked into his mouth and drew back his hand.

* * *

"OW!" 

Potter jumped at the sound. Lucius Stunned the boy quickly, before he could recover, and turned to see his son come staggering out of the trees, hands clapped over his eye. "Father, I'm sorry – I couldn't stop him – he hit me and ran..."

"Who's this?"

"The Longbottom boy, sir. He was with me, I tried to stop him, but he hit me and ran away, he's on his way up to the castle..."

Lucius swore. "We shall have to move quickly, then. Did he recognize me?"

"I don't think so, sir."

"As a matter of fact, Draco, how did you recognize me?" Lucius unmasked, looking critically at the face so like his own.

"Your bracelet, sir." Draco pointed at the charmed strip of leather Lucius was careful always to wear around his right wrist. "I've never seen you without it."

"Lucius, there isn't time for this," interrupted Patroclus Nott, who had been trussing up the two boys. "We have to get going, past the Apparition boundaries..."

"You must come with us, Draco," said Lucius. "The boy will doubtless testify, your trying to stop him fetching help for the so-saintly Mr. Potter will be held against you... besides, after tonight, it is possible that you will not need to return here." He smiled. "I can teach you the basics of magic, and the Dark Lord himself will instruct you in the rest."

"The Dark Lord?" The boy paled. "Sir... do you mean he might return?"

"Come, we must be on our way. We shall speak more of this at home." Lucius bent and awakened the bitch, who looked wildly around for a moment, then growled at him. "Control her," he demanded of Draco. "Bring her to heel right away, she must come as well."

Draco placed two fingers on his bracelet, and the wolf whined a little, then got shakily up and stood beside Draco, taking no further notice of anything else.

"Sir," said Draco hesitantly as he walked beside Lucius and Patroclus through the forest, each wizard levitating one unconscious boy with his wand. "Sir, I'm frightened."

"Frightened? Of what?"

"Of them, sir." He looked towards the two boys. "They're going to think I set this up. Because it was my idea to come into the Forest, and then I left with Neville... Longbottom... they're going to think it was me. They might want to hurt me."

"Do not fear, Draco, they will have no opportunity to do so. The Dark Lord does not make mistakes twice."

The boy looked unconvinced. "Zelda probably wouldn't attack them," he said, looking at his bitch, who was trotting at his heel. "She's been making friends with them these two months, she'd be confused if I ordered her to attack. And H... Potter's a lot better with his wand than I am."

"He has no wand now, and is unlikely to gain one." But Lucius could understand his son's fear. He recalled what it had been to be eleven; most of his thoughts had not been rational, so it seemed only likely that his fears had not been, either.

Something occurred to him. "Caesar has never met these boys. He has no reason to be friendly towards them. Would you feel safer if you were protected by him, as well as by your own Zelda?"

Draco stared at him, looking absurdly hopeful. "Sir... _could_ I? Really?"

Another facet of being eleven, Lucius remembered, was that he had been easily pleased by relatively small things. "Yes. You may. As soon as we reach home, I shall give the bracelet to you."

Draco's smile was almost luminous, and Lucius reflected with pride that his son would be highly sought-after in the marriage market when he reached the proper age. He had done well in that vein. Very well indeed.

* * *

Two loud cracks sounded through the halls of Malfoy Manor, as Patroclus Nott materialized with Harry Potter slung over his shoulder and Ron Weasley loosely roped to his side, and Lucius Malfoy a moment later with his son Draco pressed against him and the boy's bitch-wolf huddled at their feet. 

"Here, then," said Lucius, pressing two fingers of his left hand against his bracelet. "_Diffindus Armilla!_"

The bracelet opened where his fingers were pressed. Quickly, he took it from his own arm and placed it around Draco's, overlapping the ends and mentally reciting the more complex incantation that transferred the magical control intrinsic to the object from himself to his son.

The two ends grew together, seamlessly, as if they had never been apart. Draco ran his fingers across both of the armlets he now wore and turned a radiant face up to his father. "Sir... I can never tell you what this means to me. Thank you. Thank you so much. I've been wishing I could do this all my life..."

Lucius laughed. "Away with you, boy, get to your room," he said indulgently. "Call Caesar to you there, tell him what is going on, make it clear that you are the master, and remind him who pays if he disobeys. I shall call you when it is time for you to see what will go on here tonight."

_For what will go on here tonight is precisely what I would have you see, my son,_ he thought as he watched Draco run away down the long hallway, the bitch beside him._ The triumph of the Dark Lord against all odds. And his defeat of the one who once defeated him. _

_Once Potter is dead, my master will be unstoppable..._

* * *

Ray rounded the corner and had to stop, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit. He was shaking all over, so happy he couldn't breathe, and terribly frightened at the same time. 

He hadn't lied. He had been dreaming of this moment his whole life. And he was discovering that in many ways, having a dream come true was utterly terrifying.

Of course, being in the same house as Lord Voldemort, and knowing that some of his best friends were in danger of their lives, was utterly terrifying in all ways.

_He's going to try to kill them... he's got some of his power back, and he's going to try to kill them..._

**Operative word, try,** said a strong, calm voice. **Because we're not going to let him. You have ladies coming, Ray, mind your manners.**

Ray twisted around and got onto his knees as his mother came around the far corner, the one he hadn't come around himself. "Ma'am," he said formally, looking up at her. He glanced at her companion, but did not speak.

"I understand, Ray, that you have been granted control over Caesar," said Narcissa.

"Yes, ma'am."

"This would seem to be an opportunity not to be wasted." She pulled back her right sleeve. "It would be wrong of me to stand in your way." She placed two fingers of her right hand on the neck of the full-grown wolf standing beside her, and two fingers of her left hand on the bracelet she wore, almost identical to the two on Ray's wrist.

The collar the wolf wore split and fell away. She closed brown eyes, as if in pain, or joy too great to be endured.

"I must admit that I had anticipated this, in some respects," said Narcissa. She removed an envelope from an inner pocket of her robes. "This is for you, my son – for so I may still call you, for the moment, I think."

**Always, Narcissa,** said the wolf, opening her eyes. **Always, if he will have it so. **She shot Ray a look that meant he had better have it so.

"I will," said Ray, standing up. He would have anyway, her look only reinforced it. "Always my mother." He held out his hand to her.

"I thank you both," said Narcissa, taking Ray's hand formally for a moment, then closing it around the envelope. "As I have done for Calpurnia, my son, you should do for Griselda. She is waiting."

Ray flushed and turned to Zelda, who was indeed standing awfully close to him. **You should have said something,** he grumbled silently, stuffing the envelope into his robes and placing his hands in the pattern he knew so well.

**You were busy with them. I didn't want to bother you. **Zelda sighed in relief as her collar fell away. **Two down, one to go...**

A male wolf came around the corner, head held high. **Narcissa,** he greeted the woman.

"Caesar." Narcissa went to one knee and looked into his blue eyes. "Our bargain is complete. Both sides have what they wished."

**Are you certain? You seem to get very little from the deal. **

"I have had my time with Lucius. I now want my freedom, which he will be only too happy to grant me once he hears my story. As for the rest..." Her eyes rested on Ray. "It was never mine to begin with. Both sides are satisfied. Our bargain is complete."

**Then so be it. **He bowed to her, lowering his front half to the ground, then rising again. **You have been a good friend. We shall miss you. **

"And I you. You have taught me much in these years. I shall miss our conversations." Narcissa rose abruptly. "I will intrude no longer. Farewell."

She turned and walked around the corner and out of sight.

Ray was beside the wolf in an instant, right hand against the collar, left on the bracelet, praying that he truly did have control, that it wasn't some kind of trick...

The collar fell limply to the floor.

Zelda growled at it. **Take that, you nasty thing.**

**Silly Kitten,** said his dad affectionately.

**Dear God.** His mum had closed her eyes again. **It's true. It's really happening. We're free. **

_Free. _

The word hit home for Ray, breaking through the bubble of unreality that had formed around him as soon as he'd seen his mother. He moved backwards to sit against the wall, shaking again. He'd been convinced this was all a joke or a game, that his father really knew what was going on and would stop it before it went too far, that there was no way it could be real.

But it was.

His breathing was shaky, he was going to laugh or cry in a moment, and he didn't know which. He suspected both.

**It's all right, little fox,** said his mum softly. **Everything will be all right now. **She slipped past his dad, happily scuffling with Zelda – he'd have to start using her real name at some point, but not right now – and sat down next to him, letting him put his arms around her neck and cry into her fur as he had always done when he was little. **Did you take your potion tonight?**

**No, I was going to run back to the dorm and do it...**

**That's all right. In fact, that's excellent. Just think of dear Lucius' face in about half an hour. Won't that be amazing? **

**Terrific.** Ray smiled through his tears. **And after I see him like that, I never have to see him again. Ever. **

**That's right. Not ever again. **His mum's power, no longer curtailed as it had so long been, flowed around them, carrying them both away to a place where they could hold each other in their arms. Though he knew they couldn't stay there long, it was just what he needed at the moment.

The thought and the memory would give him the strength to fight, until the moment when it all came true.

* * *

Harry had never been more scared in his life. One instant he'd been in the Forest, fighting, unable to run now because that would mean leaving Ron behind, and the next he was here, wherever here was. He felt stiff, and his wrists hurt. Rope burns, he decided when he brought them around to his front and looked at them. 

He sat up slowly and looked around. A dark, cold stone room was lit by only two torches on the walls and a small fire in the fireplace in the other wall, which was mostly blocked by a large armchair anyway. Ron was lying next to him, shivering, his eyes closed, but Harry could hear his breath catching and knew his friend had to be awake.

"Come on," he breathed, pulling Ron's sleeve. "Come on, we have to get out of here... we can't just sit here and let them do anything they want... we have to fight, we have to try..."

"You can try," said a voice from the other side of the room. Ron had opened his eyes, but shut them again quickly at the sound of the voice. It sent chills down Harry's spine for no reason he could think of, and he had the strangest feeling that he'd heard it before, somewhere, sometime...

"You can try," the voice repeated with amusement. "But you will not get far. Turn my chair around, Wormtail."

Harry's head snapped to one side as a small, mousy man emerged from the shadows. He was on his feet without realizing it. This man was the reason his life had turned out as it had, the reason he had no parents, the reason his godfather had spent ten years as a dog...

But he couldn't do anything. He was eleven years old, barely two months into his magical education, and he had no wand. There was nothing he could do, though every bit of his body longed to hurt the man, to make him pay.

Ron had his face in his hands. "It's not happening," Harry heard him whimpering. "It's not happening, it's not real, it's not happening..."

Wormtail had his face averted as he turned the armchair around, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on his face as he did. And then the chair was facing them, and Harry understood it.

The thing in the chair was horrific, shaped marginally like a human child, but in no other way like one. It was worse than any of the disgusting creatures Harry had ever seen or read about, because that was the way they were meant to be by nature, and there was nothing natural about this hairless, scaly-looking thing – it appeared to be covered with reddish-black scabs, with thin, feeble arms and legs, and a face that Harry knew suddenly, beyond a doubt, he had seen before.

His mouth opened, and one word came out.

"Voldemort..."

Ron whimpered again. He was curled into a ball now, his arms over his head. Harry wanted to do the same, but he was trapped by Voldemort's red eyes, unable to look away.

"You recognize me, then," said the most powerful Dark wizard in a hundred years. "I thought you might. Ten years, Harry Potter. Ten years since last we met. You have increased. I have decreased. But that shall be reversed on the morrow."

Wormtail had backed away from the chair, his eyes fixed on Harry; he seemed to be trying to get something across, but Harry's mind had frozen and he couldn't comprehend anything except Voldemort's words.

"Wormtail's arrival in my hiding place came at the perfect time, for several reasons. First, that meddling Muggle-lover, Dumbledore, seems to have guessed some of my plans, or been told of them... had Wormtail delayed only another week, the fragment of my soul that animates this construction," Voldemort ran his eyes over his revolting body, "would have had no anchor in this world, and would have been forever lost. But that can now be changed.

"Secondly, I have some unfinished business at a place called Godric's Hollow. And that business commences tomorrow. Tomorrow, when my fortunes shall be restored, and all that I have lost shall return to me." The lipless mouth smiled. "But first I must secure myself against death. And that requires two things. First, a vessel – my dear Nagini has volunteered for that position..."

"_I would do anything for you, Master,_" came a voice from the darkness. Harry jumped and stared around, looking for the speaker.

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "_Do you understand this, boy?_" he asked sibilantly.

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Odd," Voldemort said, as if to himself. "But I have been distracted. Nagini will be the vessel. But I also need a victim. A sacrifice, if you will. And Lucius and Patroclus were thoughtful enough to bring one along..."

His eyes rested on Ron.

Without thinking, Harry was in front of his friend. "Leave him ALONE!" he shouted. "He's nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, but he is." Voldemort lifted his hand, a hand which Harry now saw contained a wand, and casually motioned with it, and Harry was pushed to one side by a force he couldn't fight. "He fought against my followers. Such presumption must be punished. And after it is, after I have again secured myself against ill fortune or an unlucky curse, and after I have used you to return to my former state, you too shall perish, Harry Potter. Ten years beyond the first night I saw you, but was that not my plan to begin with?" He seemed to be talking to himself now. "And they to witness it... what bliss..."

The final 's' trailed off into a long hiss. Voldemort's eyes were almost shut, as if he were dreaming of such happiness, in his own twisted way, that he could not bear to look upon his present surroundings. Then they snapped open again. "Raise him up, Wormtail," he commanded. "I wish to see his face before I kill him."

Harry struggled against the magic holding him, but it was too strong. Wormtail was coming forward now, he was leaning down over Ron, pulling him up –

Ron seemed to find his courage all at once, or maybe it was just that Voldemort's unnatural appearance had floored him, but Wormtail was a man, and a man he could deal with. He attacked Wormtail with fists and feet, punching and kicking indiscriminately, and Wormtail cowered back instead of fighting.

"Useless fool!" shouted Voldemort furiously. "Out of my way!" His wand moved away from Harry, who was suddenly released, and flicked Wormtail and Ron apart, shoving Ron halfway across the room. Voldemort turned, leaning over one arm of the chair, and aimed his wand directly at Ron. "_Crucio!_"

Ron screamed horribly, falling to the floor and thrashing. Harry looked around wildly for something he could do, anything –

His hand fell against his pocket, and the heavy lump therein, the jagged-edged rock Ron had given him in the Forest –

He pulled it free, aimed as Padfoot had taught him, and threw it hard.

It struck Voldemort squarely in the forehead.

The evil wizard screamed, dropping his wand, and staggered backwards, losing his balance and falling over the opposite arm of the chair, headfirst.

There was a dull thud.

Ron's screams had stopped, he was lying very still, panting. Harry was shaking so hard he didn't think he could move.

_What did I just do? _

Wormtail was edging toward the door – now, before Harry could recover his wits enough to do anything about it, he shoved it wide and ran.

There was a commotion in the hall.

**Ah-HA!**

**Gotcha! **

**Oh, no, you don't!**

"They must be in here!" shouted a voice aloud, and Ray barreled around the door, stopping dead as he stared at something on the floor beside the armchair, something Harry couldn't see. He began to back up, slowly, jerkily, apparently not noticing anyone else in the room.

**Sit down,** said a man's voice firmly, and a large grey wolf, larger than Zelda, appeared around the door and gave Ray's robes a tug. Ray collapsed to the floor, still staring at whatever it was. **Kitten, my love, I think we need you both in here.**

**Coming,** answered a woman's voice, and another large wolf trotted into the room, trailed by Zelda, who yelped when she saw Ron on the floor and galloped straight to him, pressing herself into his arms. The other wolf approached Harry, who was leaning against the wall, wishing he were somewhere else, anywhere –

And suddenly he was.

He looked around, startled, at the room which had materialized around him. It wasn't anywhere he recognized, but it felt homelike, comfortable. And there was a woman sitting on the couch in front of him, who smiled and held out her arms. "It's all right," she said, in the same voice which he had last heard. "Come, sit."

Harry thought he might well have accepted an invitation from the giant squid which lived in Hogwarts lake at the moment. He practically dived into the woman's arms and started to cry, harsh, painful sobs which shook him like Zelda had shaken the gnomes she'd found in Hagrid's garden...

"You're like Zelda," he said when he could speak again. "Wolf, but human. And..." He pulled away a little bit and wiped his eyes, peering up at the woman's face. "You look like her too. Are you her mum?"

The woman shook her head. "Sister," she said. "But I'm of an age where I could have been her mum, and I've been the next thing to a mum to her for most of her life, so there's no shame in your thinking that."

Memories were trailing back to Harry now, old memories of looking at photo albums, ones that didn't come out often, and the stories that went with the pictures, and other memories, hazy ones, of dreams he'd had and half-forgotten. He knew in that moment why he had thought he'd seen Zelda's face before. He had a million questions, but the one that came out when he opened his mouth wasn't the one he had thought it would be.

"What's Zelda's real name?"

* * *

He didn't want to come out. No one could make him. Coming out meant being afraid and getting hurt. So he wasn't going to come out any more. 

**Ron...**

He knew the voice, but he wasn't going to come out for that. She could call him all she wanted. He wasn't going to fall for it.

**Ron, I know you can hear me. **

Of course he could hear her. He just wasn't going to answer. No matter what she said, he wasn't going to answer her.

**Ron, do you still want to know my real name? **

Bugger. How had she figured out one of the only things he was still curious about?

**I can tell you it now. But not unless you answer me. **

If she could tell him her real name, then there must not be any more danger from it. Which must mean...

"Nomorecurse?" he mumbled.

**I'm sorry? **Her tone was polite, but he could hear a very strong undertone of jubilation in it. Well, she wasn't going to be happy for long. He would come out long enough to satisfy his curiosity, and then he would go back in.

"Is your curse gone?" he repeated, a little more clearly this time.

**What – oh. Yes. The curse is gone. I can tell people who I am now. Do you still want to know?**

Ron nodded, and against his better judgment, opened his eyes.

All he could see was grey. After a confused moment, he realized his face was pressed against her side, so that he was seeing her fur. Carefully, he pulled away from her and sat up. They were much the same height when they were both sitting, he noticed. Her hazel eyes met his blue very nicely.

**My real name is Hermione. Hermione Granger. **

"Her-my-oh-nee," repeated Ron out loud, carefully. "That's pretty."

**Thank you. Are you feeling better now?**

"Yeah, a little. What happened?"

**You were under the Cruciatus Curse. It causes pain.**

Ron snorted. "Figured that one out for myself, thanks."

**Harry threw a rock at Voldemort – oh, stop that! He's dead now, he can't hurt you!**

"He's dead? But I thought he was already dead!"

**No, he was just gone for a while. But now he's really dead. There was a prophecy made, that only Harry could defeat him, and he just did. He'll never hurt anyone again. **Zelda's – Hermione's – voice sounded jubilant. **And I can be human again every day, and even at night sometimes if I want to, with the potion. **

"But I thought you couldn't do that," said Ron, confused. "Because you'd age too fast or something."

She shook her head, looking downcast. **We lied. I'm sorry. We had to lie. It was the only way we could think of to explain why I had to stay in wolf form. **

"But it wasn't true?"

**No, it wasn't true. **

"So why did you have to stay in wolf form, then?"

**That,** said a different voice, **will be explained soon.**

* * *

(A/N: And it will! As soon as I have time, and energy, to write it... whoo, this action stuff is draining. I'm not sure I'm going to want to do anything this afternoon. But I have work to do... grr... 

Oh well. I'll find time. Please relieve my sadness – review! And give me some thoughts about magnifying glasses. (That's right, everyone – review topics are back!) And I still say LwoD will be updated within the weekend!)


	14. Better Than All Right

Chapter 14: Better Than All Right

Sirius looked at Malfoy Manor, sitting cozily ensconced on its grounds, and didn't bother to repress a growl. He wanted to run in there, find Harry and make sure he was safe, and then punch Lucius Malfoy in the face and kick him into Azkaban.

Directly, from here.

"This is odd," said Frank Longbottom from behind him.

"What?"

"I've been here before a couple of times, official visits and such. And the Malfoys always had a pair of... well, I guess they were guard dogs, but they didn't look like dogs exactly. More like wolves. They were always roaming the grounds, singly or together, and they looked fairly savage. There's a few charmed paths they can't come on, but I wouldn't put it past Lucius Malfoy to occasionally deactivate the charms – by accident, of course."

"Of course." Sirius peered around, not seeing any trace of animal activity. "Frank, can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on what it is."

Sirius grinned. "You know Letha's dog?"

"The one she named after you?"

"That's the one."

"What about it?"

Sirius changed forms.

Frank stared at him for one instant, then started laughing. "You son of a bitch – literally! When did you learn to do that?"

Sirius turned back. "In school," he said. "Peter learned from James and me."

Frank nodded. "That does explain a lot. So you want to go scouting?"

"I'll see if I can tell where these wolves of yours are, or if they're even out. He might have taken them in for some reason."

"I'll cover you." Frank drew his wand. "If I can see you. Sun'll be down before too long."

"I'll be back before then." Sirius transformed again and began sniffing around. Frank had been telling the truth – the grounds were rife with the scents of a pair of wolves, male and female, quite possibly mates. They had not been through here for several hours, and they shared a sly sense of humor and a love of literature...

_What the hell?_

Sirius changed back, shaking his head. "I think I'm going fwoop on you, Frank," he said, using a wizard slang term for crazy.

"What do you mean, going?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Anyway, they were here, but they're not now. No scents less than a couple hours old."

"Just be ready, in case they come at us out of nowhere," Frank warned, starting to move up the hill towards the house. "I didn't like the way they were looking at me the last time I visited."

But nothing jumped out at them as they walked along the path. The sun was at their backs, casting a red glow over everything, which Sirius didn't entirely like. It made him think of blood, of that day in London, the worst day of his life...

_It's over,_ he reminded himself firmly. _Everyone knows the truth now. You'll never go back. _

He reached for the door knocker, but the door swung open before he could get there.

"Sirius," said the woman in the doorway.

"Narcissa." Sirius carefully did not sneer at her. He might not like her much, but there was no need to make enemies. "We're here to see Lucius."

"About Harry Potter?"

"Yes, actually," said Frank, as Sirius was momentarily unable to speak.

"The boy is safe," said Narcissa. "His friend as well. I will take you to them, if you will come inside."

Sirius felt for his wand unobtrusively. _This is too easy. There has to be a trick to it._ A glance at Frank showed that he had come to the same conclusion, and was shifting his robes to be able to get at his wand quickly.

"Or perhaps you would first prefer to arrest his kidnappers," said Narcissa, stepping aside to allow them entrance. "My husband and Patroclus Nott are the guilty parties. I can bring you to them as well."

Sirius rubbed his wedding ring, something he only did when he was highly nervous. This was incredibly atypical behavior for Narcissa. What had gotten into her?

"I am prepared to cooperate fully with the law," said Narcissa, as if she had read his thoughts. "If you would prefer, I can bring one of you within, and the other may wait in a place of his choosing, to send for help if no word comes within a chosen amount of time."

_That's not a bad idea._

"Excuse us for a moment, Mrs. Malfoy," said Frank politely, and drew Sirius off to one side. "That sounds like a decent idea," he said. "We don't know what kind of game she's playing here."

"My thoughts exactly." Sirius looked back at Narcissa, who was examining the decorations on a wall panel closely. "You're senior. Do you want to go in, or stay out?"

"You're the expert here, she's your cousin – and it's your boy we're talking about, to all intents and purposes. If you think you can be objective enough about Malfoy and Nott... and I doubt anyone at Headquarters would mind too much if they came in with a few bruises they picked up 'resisting arrest'..." Frank's tone was utterly bland.

"Where will you be?"

"Off their grounds for sure – shall we say down by that old willow where we Apparated in?"

"That sounds good. I'll send you a message when I'm sure the boys are safe, another when I've got those two all tied up, and if you don't hear from me in half an hour..."

"Call the cavalry. Best of luck."

"Thanks." They shook hands, then Frank gave Narcissa a slight bow and walked back out the front door.

"The children first, or my husband and his accomplice?" asked Narcissa.

"I think I want to see the boys first, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. One moment. Dobby," she called aloud.

"Yes, Mistress Narcissa?" The Malfoys' house-elf appeared in the hallway.

"Bring our two young guests here. Alone."

"Yes, Mistress." The elf was gone.

"Who are they with that you don't want me to see?" asked Sirius bluntly.

"No one that I do not wish you to see. Those who do not yet wish you to see them." Narcissa was being equally blunt, if rather cryptic.

It was only a few minutes before Sirius heard running footsteps down a hall, and Harry shot out of one of the cross-passages and charged at him. He caught his godson thankfully in his arms. "You're all right?" he asked, holding him close.

"Fine – you won't believe it – I saw Voldemort!"

"_What?_" exclaimed Sirius, discounting the small frightened noise coming from farther up the hall. "Where is he?"

"He's dead. I think I killed him."

"You _killed_ him?"

"With a thrown rock, if I understand correctly," said Narcissa, a certain level of cool amusement creeping into her tone.

"Nice work," said Sirius appreciatively.

Harry looked at the floor. "He was hurting Ron," he said in a mumble. "I had to do something."

Sirius turned his attention to the tall, red-haired boy waiting in the shadows. "Sirius Black," he said, holding out his hand.

"Oh – Ron Weasley."

"I've heard a great deal about you," said Sirius, firmly holding in his urge to laugh hysterically at the mixture of commonplace and unbelievable this scenario was unfolding before him. "Nice to meet you."

"Thank you, sir. You too."

Sirius drew his wand and conjured a small version of his dog Patronus, which he imbued with the thought that he had seen the boys and they were all right, then sent it off to Frank. "Now I'll see Lucius," he said, turning to Narcissa.

Narcissa nodded. "I shall take you where he is."

Harry and Ron stayed close to Sirius as they moved through the long, dark hallways. Sirius was starting to regret putting such a long time on his and Frank's agreement. Half an hour? A lot could happen to a man in half an hour. A lot of bad, painful things. Or to a boy. He looked at Harry and knew he couldn't bear it if anything really horrid happened to him...

"There is another in the house whom you might be interested in seeing," said Narcissa conversationally. "Peter Pettigrew has joined us."

Sirius almost dropped his wand. "Wormtail? Here?"

"He escorted the Dark Lord from his hiding place, and was ordered to remain here."

"But Voldemort's dead," said Sirius. "Why would he hang around? Or doesn't he know?"

"He knows," said Harry. "He watched me do it. But... somebody caught him and caged him up."

"_Somebody_ had better have done a good job of it," said Sirius. "I swear, if he gets away again..."

"He shall not." Narcissa sounded certain. "The magic used was formidable." She came to a halt. "Lucius is in this room," she said, pointing to a set of double doors on her left. "Be on your guard. He is not alone, and he may be expecting trouble."

Sirius nodded. "Thank you, Narcissa. I think that's everything I need from you."

"I know," she said quietly, but did not leave.

"It might not be a good idea for you to hang around," said Sirius frankly. "You've been helpful, but I don't expect you to go hexing Lucius for me, and that's the only help I'm likely to need in there. So if you're not prepared to do that, I'd really rather you left."

He might have imagined it, but he thought a flicker of a smile crossed her face. "Very well. I shall depart." She turned and walked quickly away.

"Stay in the hall," Sirius warned the boys. "I don't want you caught in crossfire."

"We will," said Harry, as Ron nodded.

Sirius turned the door handle with his right hand and stepped boldly into the room.

He was grateful for Narcissa's warning, as he immediately had to shield himself from two nasty-looking curses. Malfoy and Nott had constructed some kind of shield-fortress at the other end of the room, and were firing spells out of it. Sirius spent a few moments simply dodging their spells and trying to get a good look at it before he started returning fire.

_Time to start the standard good guy-bad guy dialogue..._

"Give up!" he called over the sound of spells firing and debris crashing down. This room of Malfoy Manor was never going to look the same.

"Never!" shouted Malfoy back at him.

"The Dark Lord cannot truly die!" shouted Nott, apparently feeling more vociferous than Malfoy.

Sirius snickered. "No, he just gets defeated," he called from behind a large chair, where he had taken momentary refuge. "Once by a one-year-old, and once by an eleven-year-old with a rock."

Malfoy snarled and blasted Sirius' chair, forcing him to dive out of the way of flaming upholstery. _All right, maybe taunting them isn't the way to go. _

_But it's sure fun..._

He threw a Stunner at them, willing all his magic behind it, and was amazed to see it penetrate their shields and take Nott down.

In the next instant, he was knocked backwards, his wand flying from his hand.

_Shit – how did he get me?_

Malfoy emerged from his fortress, smiling triumphantly. "Never stop to gloat until the battle is over, Black," he said, pointing his wand straight at Sirius. "A lesson the Dark Lord taught me. _Ava–_"

A streak of grey shot past Sirius' eyes, landing squarely on Malfoy's chest and dropping the man like a rock, resolving, now that it was no longer moving, into the figure of a large grey wolf, snarling into Malfoy's face. A second wolf ran up to him and clamped its teeth around his wand, yanking it from his hand.

_I think I've just found those guard wolves Frank was telling me about..._

Something nudged his hand. He looked down.

A third wolf, a bit smaller than the other two and with the look of being not quite fully grown, was holding his own wand in its teeth. He held out his hand, and the creature dropped the wand into it.

"DAD!" The cry came from the entrance to the room. Sirius turned to look and saw a boy who could only be Malfoy's son, staring horror-struck at the tableau of his father with a wolf on his chest, teeth inches from his throat. "NO!"

"It's your own fault, boy," wheezed Malfoy, glaring at his son. "_Why _did you uncollar them? Did you not know they would turn on us the instant you did?"

"Who are you including, when you say 'us', Lucius?" asked Narcissa, appearing in the doorway behind her son. "So far, they have threatened no one but yourself."

Sirius blinked. That was true. The wolf who had taken Lucius' wand was sitting on the far side of the room, guarding it – the one who had restored his to him was pressed against Malfoy's son's legs – he recalled from Harry's letters that the boy's name was Draco, but that he liked to be called Ray – and thinking of Harry seemed to have conjured him, for he and Ron were peering over Ray's shoulders into the room.

**I'm not about to kill him, Ray, **said a man's voice. **But we'll never get this done if you all just stand there. ****Come on in, everyone. **

Sirius stiffened. He could not have heard what he thought he'd heard. Not only had it been in his mind rather than his ears, but it was just bloody not possible. The man was dead. He'd been dead for twelve years...

The wolf on Malfoy's chest looked around at him as the four people in the doorway came into the room and started finding places to sit down. Its eyes were a brilliant blue. **By the way, Padfoot, I give up. How _do_ you get an elephant into a refrigerator?**

Sirius was grateful that he was leaning on the wall, or he would likely have fallen down. "It's pretty simple," he said weakly. "Open the door, put the elephant in, and close the door again."

**I should have seen that coming.**

**Yes, you should have,** said a woman's voice, equally familiar, equally impossible, and clearly coming from the brown-eyed wolf sitting on Malfoy's wand. **Sirius, since you have a wand and hands, would you mind tying these two morons up? Just so we don't have any sudden "Oh-look-I'm-awake" moments?**

"I can do that." Sirius bound Nott first, then carefully directed the ropes he conjured to restrain only Malfoy, not the creature sitting on his chest.

**Thank you.** The wolf removed himself. **Now, sir, I believe you wanted an explanation,** he said to Malfoy.

"He's not the only one," muttered Sirius.

**You drop your wand tip right after you cast, Padfoot. Always have. It's a bad habit. And then it takes you a second to get it back up – **

**Remus! There are children present!**

**Who's got the dirtier mind, Danger, the one who says it or the one who interprets it?**

The boys were snickering, while the smallest wolf looked shocked, and Narcissa vaguely amused.

"Thank you. But that's not what I wanted explained, and you know it."

**Oh, you mean this?** Remus waved a paw at his surroundings. **What we're doing here, and looking like this, and how long, and why didn't we ever tell you – that kind of thing?**

"Yes, that'd be nice."

**Does anyone mind if we go into it a little?** asked Danger, looking around the room.

No one responded.

**All right, story time it is. ****Hold on tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride. **

**The Death Eaters left us for last when they took the four of us, **Remus began. **They took Evanie first, then Peter. But I'm sure you know at least some of that. When they came for us, we were petrified that we were going to be separated, but it didn't happen. They hauled us away together. When we got where we were going, we found out why. **

**Lord Voldemort,** said Danger, giving the title quite a sarcastic spin, **had come up with a new spell. One for use on werewolves. It would do two things – turn them into their wolf form without the moon being up, and lock them there permanently, so that he could unleash them any time he wanted. **

Sirius frowned. "That doesn't make sense. How would he control a werewolf? They're resistant to magic, shake off hexes and curses and such..."

**Ah, there's the real genius in the spell. It was designed to change only the body of the werewolf. Not the mind. The mind would still be human, and thus capable of being, as he put it, trained.** Danger's tone made it entirely clear what she thought of Voldemort's training tactics. **Except on actual full moons, when the typical werewolf transformation would take over. **

**And I got to be the lucky test candidate, **said Remus dryly. **With Danger in the enclosure with me, of course, so that he could see if it had worked – if I'd kept my human mind – and if I had, he'd try and Imperius me to make me kill her anyway. **

**Well, I wasn't about to just sit there and let it have him,** said Danger. **I tried to knock him out of the way, in wolf form, of course, in case he lost his mind anyway, but I mistimed it, and the spell hit both of us. Hurt, too. **

**When the dust cleared, we were both standing there looking like this. **Remus indicated himself and Danger. **We found out we could talk to each other like this pretty quickly. **

**I think my first tip-off was when I heard you say that about my tail. **

**What? It is nice-looking. **

Wolves couldn't blush, but Danger was managing anyway. **In any case, Voldemort got pretty mad and Crucio'd a couple of people because they hadn't told him I was an Animagus, and ended up ordering that they put us away and watch us for a couple of days, to see if the spell wore off. **

**And we thought it had,** said Remus. **Because when we woke up the next morning, we were human. But around sunset, we got a shock. Turned back into wolves, the pair of us. **

**So we made it our business to be awake early the next morning. And sure enough, right around sunrise, we got unfurry and two-legged again. **

**A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks, and it became pretty obvious that this wasn't going to wear off,** Remus continued. **Humans during the day, wolves at night... I think our biggest surprise was on full moon night, though. **

"What happened?"

**Well, it seems that the spell managed to spread out Remus' were-ness, if that's even a word, to the both of us. So we both go about halfway out of our minds on the night of the full moon. We get touchy and grumpy and more likely to hurt someone, but we don't lose it completely. **

Remus wolf-grinned. **Honestly, on her, it's barely noticeable. **

**I'll pretend I didn't hear that. **

"So what are you doing in wolf form?" Sirius looked out the window. "It's still light out."

**We're getting there, hold your horses... anyway, the Death Eaters had a bit of a problem. Imperius didn't work very well on us. Nothing worked very well on us. Until Lucius Malfoy thought of those bracelet and collar sets they sell to control dangerous magical animals. Since they're specifically designed for magical creatures, and we're only half werewolf each, they worked. If we had been full werewolves, of course, I don't think they would have. **

Sirius growled under his breath, suddenly understanding what Malfoy had said about uncollaring them.

**But they didn't work quite the way they're supposed to. **Remus seemed to be putting it together as he spoke. **The person wearing the bracelet could _stop_ us doing things. Like magic. We've been forbidden to do any kind of magic, all this time. But he couldn't quite _make_ us do things. **

**He could, however, withhold our food if we didn't do things,** said Danger bitterly. **Or hurt us. **

**Still, it wasn't enough for us to be used reliably as weapons. **Remus sighed. **Thank God, we were able to avoid that. So Malfoy came up with another idea. **

**He made us part of his household, **said Danger. **That was around Christmas. We spent nights roaming the grounds, watching for intruders, and days in a little basement room with a bed and table and chairs, and a bathroom attached. Dobby brought us our meals. **She yawned. **Got boring after a while, looking at the same four walls. So we asked Dobby, ever so nicely, what his orders about us were. **

**He said that he'd been ordered to give us what we needed, **said Remus with a chuckle.** It didn't take us too long to convince him that "what we needed" could be stretched to include things like books. **

**It helped, of course, that we'd always been polite to him. **Danger looked down at Malfoy, who was staring across the room at her. **Got a problem? **she inquired politely.

"Books? You've been pilfering from my library?"

**Not pilfering,** said Remus. **It would only be pilfering if we didn't return them. **

**Of course, we thought of seeing if we could get Dobby to take a letter out,** said Danger. **But you thought of it first,** she said to Lucius. **Or maybe not that exactly, but you thought of something like it. **

**He started layering more prohibitions on our collars,** said Remus. **Prohibitions against us leaving the grounds, or telling anyone we were human in any way, or even against people speaking our names. We haven't been able to say our own names aloud for years.** For the first time, his tone was bitter. **We've been using the names he gave us. Caesar and Calpurnia. Slave names. **

**We always had this,** said Danger. **We could always say them to ourselves. But then...** She stopped. **Well, then it became a good idea not to for a while. **

"Why?" asked Sirius, totally fascinated by the story.

**Tell you later. But I forgot one thing about our lovely collars. They were set up rather uniquely. If one of us disobeyed, the punishment struck the other one. Small punishments for small crimes, larger ones for larger. So I could have run away at any time. If I didn't care that Remus was going to die for it. **

**And then there was Hermione. **

**Yes. Then there was Hermione. **Danger sighed. **We knew about her already, from your letters, of course. **

"Yes. Please explain that to me. How in hell were you getting those letters?"

**Oh, we did forget to tell you something,** said Remus, sounding chagrined. **It happened one day not too long after Malfoy took us over. Since we were out all night, we usually slept during the day, and... I suppose it was a dream, but it was so real. Maybe a vision would be a better word. **

"Vision of what?"

**We don't know,** said Danger. **They looked like ordinary people, but they seemed to have a lot of power. They told us they couldn't do anything about our captivity, that was our business, but they could give us things to make it better. We each got one specific power. Remus' was control over fire. Mine was control over dreams. And since our minds got cross-linked when we were hit by the spell, we can both use each other's. **

**Of course, since we were wearing the collars, we couldn't use the magic actively if we didn't want to make each other ill. We've only used the powers fully once each in all the time we've been here. **

"Control of dreams," said Sirius slowly. "Not the night..."

**You were in Azkaban. Yes. **Danger nodded. **We couldn't leave you like that. We couldn't do anything else about it – do you know how much we wanted to tell you that Peter was the spy, all that time? But you wouldn't have believed just a dream telling you so. **

Sirius sighed. "No, probably not. So when did you use yours, Moony?"

**I'll tell you later. It would just get in the way right now. But in any case, it turns out that Danger giving dreams to just the two of us doesn't count as using her power actively, so we've been dreaming together for years. And she can craft dreams and send them out to people, because that doesn't count either – it only counts if we interact with you. That's how we've been answering your letters. **

Suddenly the connections closed in Sirius' mind. "And you've been getting them through _your_ power – because we always _burn_ them!"

**Exactly. It's a little strange, seeing your handwriting in the fire in the kitchen fireplace, but it works. **

Sirius laughed at the image.

**Now, I want you to promise me something, Sirius,** said Danger earnestly. **Promise me you're not going to hurt anyone. **

"I promise."

**Severus Snape makes the potion that keeps us in wolf form. **

Sirius regretted the promise immediately, as rage boiled up in him. "And he's never told us? All this time, he's never bothered to tell us where you are?"

**Sirius, he doesn't know. At least not that it's us. **

**Lucius put it to him as an interesting challenge, a test of his skills, **said Remus. **It took him nearly two years to come up with what he did, and it's still not as perfect as Lucius would like. We have to take it every twenty-four hours, and once a month or so we need a day off from it, to let some of the ingredients flush out of our systems so they don't build up and become toxic. **

"A day off?"

**A day to be human,** Danger clarified. **We spend it in our lovely little room. **

**Of course, it would work just as well to hold us human most of the time, **said Remus. **We keep whatever form we're in when we take it for that twenty-four hours. **

Sirius nodded. "I understand. But you were just talking about Hermione. Is she alive?"

**Well, _I_ think I am,** said a third voice.

Sirius whipped around. The wolf sitting at Draco Malfoy's feet was regarding him with amused hazel eyes. **Hi, Padfoot,** she said.

**They transfigured her into wolf form,** said Danger. **And then used the same spell on her and Evanie that they did on me and Remus. Only this time they meant it to do what it did. **

Aletha's story about Evanie suddenly made sense. The change at sunset, the speaking mentally... no wonder Remus and Danger's story sounded familiar. "And then Malfoy collared her, and renamed her, and gave her to his son."

**Yes. **Remus had a tone in his voice Sirius knew well. It meant "I know something you don't, and you're not going to like it, and I like that." **Yes. His son. Narcissa, do you want to take over here?**

"I believe I would like that." Narcissa was sitting at a table across the room. All eyes turned to her now. This was what she liked best, Sirius knew – to be in the spotlight.

She smoothed her hair a little before she looked at her husband. "No woman of the House of Black has been repudiated in four hundred years," she said. "Even my sister Bellatrix managed to escape that fate when she was found to be barren. I was determined that it would not overtake me. So I was quite relieved when I conceived a child, in September of the year our friends came to us." She indicated Remus and Danger. "You recall I was brought to bed late in the day on 5 June of the next year, and upon the following day you arrived in my room to see your son and congratulate me."

"Yes, of course I remember," said Lucius impatiently. "What about it?"

"You recall how we have lived for the last eleven years," Narcissa continued, ignoring this. "You seldom see the boy, he is tended day to day by the house-elf. The house-elf who has access to all portions of the house, and who can, if he is asked politely, transport things – or people – from place to place."

Lucius looked slightly ill. "Are you telling me that these... creatures... have unduly influenced our son?"

"No, Lucius, I am not. Kindly allow me to finish. Did you ever, during the first year that our friends were here, see them in human form?"

"Of course not. What would have been the point? I locked them in their room before sunup and let them out again after sundown."

Narcissa's lips curled slightly in a smile. "Are you familiar with the way a female wolf looks when pregnant?"

"No, I am not. Where is this all leading?"

Sirius glanced at the children. The wolf – Hermione – was excited, bouncing in place on her front paws. Ray looked like a Quidditch player waiting for the whistle. Ron seemed confused, but Harry was looking carefully from Remus and Danger to Ray and back again.

"The sun is setting," said Narcissa, looking out the window. "It will be down soon." She looked back at Lucius. "I did not bear you a son that night," she said. "I bore you a daughter. A stillborn daughter. And the Healers told me I would never bear another child. I was devastated, not only for the loss of my child, but for the loss of everything I had ever valued. I knew you would turn me out of doors without a Knut and take another wife. I wept."

Lucius looked like a landed fish, Sirius thought maliciously. His mouth was opening and closing in just that way.

"Then a voice spoke to me. A polite, quiet voice. It was the wolf I knew as Caesar. The only time, to interrupt myself, that he has ever entered my bedchamber," said Narcissa, a trifle maliciously. "He was sorry for my loss, he said. He knew what it meant to me. And he wondered if perhaps a bargain could be made, acceptable to both sides."

Ray shifted in his chair, scratching one elbow.

"I asked him what he could mean. He told me to summon Dobby. I did so. When the elf arrived, he was carrying a bundle of blankets. I opened it and found within a newly born wolf cub. Healthy, vigorous, and male."

Lucius was shaking his head, as if trying to deny what Narcissa was saying.

"Calpurnia had borne him earlier that day, Caesar told me, and they had been searching desperately for a way to keep him safe. Surely I was a powerful enough witch to make the child resemble you. Surely I could find ways to keep you from discovering how he changed at nights. I bribed the Healers attending me to keep quiet about my daughter. I buried her body myself, later that night. And I took their child as my own."

Ray looked fiercely triumphant now, staring down Lucius with scorn in every line of his face – that couldn't be what he really looked like, Sirius realized, it had to be a glamour.

_Poor kid. Probably hates what he sees every time he looks in the mirror. _

"They had already named him Reynard. After some consultation, I settled on the name Draco. The nickname of Ray could conceivably stand for both. I was indeed able to charm him to resemble you during his human hours, and to keep you from his nursery at night – not a terribly difficult proposition, as you seldom went near his nursery in any case." Narcissa smiled. "If you had, you would not have liked what you found there. His true parents spent most days with him, returning to their room only when there was a chance you might discover them. And Calpurnia – my apologies, Danger – often came indoors at night to feed him."

Sirius had to fight to keep from laughing aloud at Lucius, who looked so pitifully horrified at this moment that Sirius was tempted to lean over and pat his head.

"When the aforementioned potion was discovered, my life grew easier. Ray could remain human for longer spans of time, reducing the risk of his being discovered as a wolf. As well, you no longer insisted that... Remus and Danger... be confined during the day. Much of the time, one of them patrolled the grounds, while the other stayed with the child. Or children, I should say. Griselda – Hermione – was added to the equation near this time, and she and Ray bonded quite strongly, more strongly than you were aware of, becoming like brother and sister rather than master and servant. And thus matters remained for quite a number of years."

**Thus, Reynard and Griselda,** said Remus. **And you thought we were making it up. **

"The sun is setting," said Ray, standing up. "Watch me, Father. Watch me change."

Lucius spoke at last, one word, forced out through an obviously choked throat.

"Draco..."

Ray looked at him in contempt. "That's not my name," he said. "And this isn't my face, either." He looked back at Harry and Ron. "I can't wait until I see what I really look like," he said. "Mother could never take the charm off me. It was always too dangerous."

**The sun is setting,** said Danger quietly.

And it was. Ray went to all fours, then lay down on his side. His body twisted – it was slower than an Animagus transformation, but it didn't look any more painful than one, Sirius thought, watching in fascination. Within a few moments, a wolf slightly larger than Hermione, but still smaller than his parents, was getting to his feet, looking exhilarated.

**Hello, everyone,** he said. **My name is Reynard Lupin.**

Lucius looked rather as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Obviously, he'd been hoping that Narcissa was lying, but here was indisputable proof that her story was true. Feeling merciful, Sirius drew his wand and Stunned the man.

Motion by his wrist caught his eye. A silver badger, Frank's Order signal. Sirius held up his wrist, letting the message sink in.

_Everything all right in there?_

Sirius grinned and created a return message.

_Better than all right. Come on inside. _

He looked fondly at Reynard and Hermione, now wrestling on the floor, and gave Harry a slight nod when he saw his godson eyeing the game wistfully. In a moment, the two-wolf romp had turned into a two-wolf-and-one-boy romp, and by the look of Ron, it would very soon be two wolves and two boys.

**Oh yes, that's right,** said Remus in response to something Sirius had missed. **Padfoot, are you and Letha doing anything tomorrow night?**

"Not that I know of. Why?"

**Because we have a little excursion to take care of, and we were hoping you'd come.** Danger's mouth came open in a wolf-grin. **We're going to Godric's Hollow. To deal with Lord Voldemort's unfinished business.**

* * *

(A/N: Any guesses on what that unfinished business might be? And be honest – who had the whole thing with Ray pegged, and who's totally amazed?

This story, in case you can't tell, is winding down. One or two more chapters, I think, and not for a little while – because I have to write some LwoD now! I promised before the weekend was over, didn't I? So please review, and watch your inboxes carefully!)


	15. The Face of Truth

Chapter 15: The Face of Truth

Sirius let Frank in the front door. "You're not going to believe any of this," he said.

"Thanks for the warning."

"First off, Voldemort's dead."

"You're just figuring that out now?"

"No, he wasn't really dead until today. But now he is."

Frank shrugged. "If you say so."

"I'll show you his body. But later. Second thing, you remember Remus and Danger Lupin, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"It turns out they're not dead after all."

"Where've they been all this time, then?"

Sirius scowled. "Here. Being used as slave labor. If I'd only known..."

"Are they all right?"

"Yeah, they're all right. They were experimented on some, so they turn into wolves when the sun goes down, but they don't go out of their minds, any more than they already were. Malfoy was using a potion on them to keep them in the wolf shape during the day as well. They're your guard wolves."

Frank groaned. "You're right. I don't believe any of this."

"I'm just getting started. Ready for the big one?"

"Go ahead, hit me."

"Malfoy's son isn't really his."

"What, Narcissa was sleeping around?"

"No, he's not hers either. It was the old 'switch-the-babies' game. Narcissa's child was born dead, and Remus and Danger had just had a son. They obviously didn't want Lucius to find him, and Narcissa needed some way to keep herself from getting repudiated, so they struck a deal."

Frank shook his head slowly. "So this boy Ray that Neville's been writing home about isn't really a Malfoy after all?"

"Nope. And it makes sense if you think about it. I mean, come on. A Malfoy, in Gryffindor?"

"Don't be prejudiced. A lot of people wouldn't have believed a Black in Gryffindor either, until you."

Sirius sighed. "True. Oh yes, before I forget, we've also got Peter Pettigrew. Would you back me up if I claimed he died resisting arrest, as long as I didn't actually kill him?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"As small a cage as I can manage without it being cruelty to animals, and a shelf in my cubicle at work. I don't trust anyone else with him anymore, not after he got away twice."

"I'll think about it."

They were descending stairs now, going into what in an ordinary house would have been the basement, but in Malfoy Manor could only be called dungeons. "He's down here," said Sirius, pointing at a hallway. "And the Snark Lord's body. Care to see it?"

"Might as well. Just to have another witness."

A fat grey rat was quivering in the middle of the hallway, held in place by ropes made of fire. "Nice effect," said Frank, looking at it critically.

"Tell Remus. He did it." Sirius pushed open a wooden door. "Presenting He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated."

"Do you make jokes about everything?"

"Just about. Letha calls it my coping mechanism."

Frank looked at the crumpled, misshapen body of what had been the Darkest wizard in a hundred years. "He fell off the chair?"

"Under the impetus of a rock thrown by one Harry Potter." Sirius smiled proudly. "And look, this is strange. Right on his forehead, see? That's where the rock hit him."

"That is strange." The jagged edges of the missile had cut Voldemort's forehead open in the shape of a bolt of lightning, almost identical to the scar on Harry's own forehead.

"And farther back in the room, we have one very happy snake." Sirius drew his wand and lit it, revealing a huge snake coiled up in the far corner. "Have to get someone from Regulation and Control to come take care of it at some point. It's poisonous."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. It's just dreaming."

"Dreaming?"

"Long story. But, to be on the safe side..." Sirius conjured a cage around the snake, making sure the bars were too closely set for it to slither out. "So, that's all the nasty stuff taken care of. Want to go say hello to some old friends?"

"Why not."

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Reynard were fast asleep in a heap on the floor when Sirius and Frank arrived. Nott and Malfoy were still unconscious, and after greeting Remus and Danger, Frank went to use the Malfoys' Floo to call for backup in getting them to the Ministry. 

**So enlighten me,** said Danger. **Why did they only send two Aurors into a dangerous place like Malfoy Manor?**

"We didn't want to tip Lucius off that we knew it had been him on Hogwarts grounds. Any more than two would have been a dead giveaway." Sirius was scratching behind her ears, making her tail thump against the floor. "I'm still not sure I can believe this. You two alive, and with a son Harry's age – no, he's older than Harry, isn't he?"

**Yes. About two months older. Danger only carried him for about six months, probably because wolf ****gestation is only three months or so. **Remus looked fondly at his son. **He was the most beautiful baby. But I'm sure you felt that way about Meghan. I can't wait to meet her. **

**I'm just looking forward to getting out of here,** said Danger. **And morning. And then tomorrow night...**

"Yes. Your turn to enlighten me. How do you know about that?"

Both wolves chuckled. **You're going to love this one,** said Remus. **Classic case of being hoist with your own petard. **

**Apparently, **said Danger, rearranging herself slightly so that Sirius could get at her other ear, **it's no fun being an evil Dark Lord unless you can gloat about it to someone. And it's no fun gloating to your followers, because they know everything you've already done, and you can't tell them about your big plans for the future, because they might run off and betray you. Besides, you want someone you can shock and horrify. Someone who isn't on your side, but can't do anything about whatever you tell them. **

**Strange how neatly we fit the bill, isn't it?**

"Voldemort gloated to you?"

**Oh, constantly. But only when we were in wolf form – I think it was because he didn't want us to be able to answer. **

Remus rolled over, twisting his back against the floor. **I had to stop you from shouting at him a couple of times, as I recall. **

**Whatever. Anyway, he'd get us alone in a room, tell us all his big plans, and watch us react. **

**And we always made sure to react the way he wanted, so he'd keep doing it. **

Sirius shook his head admiringly. "You were pumping him," he said. "Pumping Lord Voldemort himself for information!"

**Yes. **

**Of course, the problem was, we couldn't do a damn thing with it. **Remus shook his head, as if shaking off bad memories. **Not until Ray was about a year and a half old. Old enough to hold a quill. **

"But what good would that do? An eighteen-month-old can't write."

**No. But you need to know something about Ray and us. He was speaking to us mentally even before he was born. We've been in contact almost his whole life. He trusts us completely. **

"So?"

**If he relaxes and allows us access to his mind, we can control his body. Use it as if it was our own. Do things like write. **

**Of course, we couldn't write very well at first,** said Danger. **Because he had only an eighteen-month-old's motor control. But we managed to get the really important stuff across. Like when your lovely cousin Bellatrix roosted here for a night, and told Lucius all about how she was going to go try to get the secret of where Voldemort had gone out of a pair of well-respected Aurors...**

"The Longbottoms," said Sirius, suddenly understanding. "The anonymous tip – that was you!"

**Yes.** Remus nodded. **We've been writing to Dumbledore for years. Dobby delivers the letters to his office, and picks up anything Dumbledore leaves for us. **

"Great." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore knew about this too? And never told anyone?"

**Well, I doubt he knew it was us,** said Danger. **Though with Dumbledore, you never know. We had a code we wrote in – he signed his letters to us "Mithrandir", and we were his "friends in low places". **

**We referred to Harry as "Arthur",** said Remus. **Like King Arthur, being raised in hiding by a foster family. And Wormtail as "Grima". **

"Grima Wormtongue. Nice."

**Oh, so Letha finally got you to read _The Lord of the Rings_! You never told us that!**

"It was self-defense," said Sirius tiredly. "So I'd finally understand everything she was always going on about. But go on. You were able to get really important messages out by having Ray write them, and Dobby deliver them."

**Yes.**

"So why didn't you ever write one telling us you were alive?"

**Collars,** said Danger bitterly.** We couldn't even tell anyone by proxy. **

**To tell you the truth, Padfoot, we really weren't so badly off. Not after we got into the routine around here, that is. **

Danger sighed heavily. **The first two months, when we had no idea what was going on, or if we were going to live to see tomorrow, those were bad. There were days when we didn't get food, days when the Death Eaters were bored and decided torturing us would help pass the time... **

**They tried separating us for a while, but it didn't work like they thought it would. **Remus snickered. **Once again, their own petard. If Voldemort had never hit us with that spell, we would never have been able to talk like this, and we would have been frantic when they split us up. But as it was, we managed. **

**Things got a little better once Malfoy took us over,** Danger said, giving the unconscious man a poisonous glance. **He never starved us, or tortured us. But that was because we were valuable property to him. Bastard. **

**It didn't take us long to get Dobby on our side,** said Remus. **He was limited by his duties to his master, of course, but he could still bring us things that we wanted, as long as we couldn't use them to escape or get word out. **

**Our powers also helped. Once Remus had command over fire, he could keep us warm while we were inside – that room's not heated particularly well, we nearly got pneumonia before we had that vision – and we could dream of being free, even if we couldn't have it for real. **

**And then Ray was born, and that put Narcissa in our debt, and things opened up tremendously. She started talking to us, and expecting us to answer. We became... not friends, exactly. More like allies. But it still helped to have one person around who didn't treat us like animals. **

**I'm a little worried about Hermione,** said Danger, looking at her sleeping sister. **This is the only life she's ever known. She's not overly coordinated in human form – no one would be, if they only wore it once a month in real life. Dreams are nice, but they can't give you the real feel of things. **

**She'll cope, love,** said Remus surely. **She's a strong one, our Kitten. **

"She's a sleepy one at the moment. Why are they all asleep?"

**She and Ray had that edgy feeling to them which usually means overexcited, and Harry and Ron were starting to act that way as well. So I fed them a strong dream of being tired, and they responded perfectly. **

"No kidding." Sirius looked at Danger with new respect. "That's one hell of a power you've got going there."

**Works best on people who trust me and people who are emotionally worked up. They fit both categories at the moment. **

Frank reentered the room, followed by two other Aurors, who looked at the wolves warily, but didn't comment on them, instead levitating Nott and Malfoy out of the room. Frank lingered for a moment. "Pettigrew's officially dead," he said quietly. "He's all yours."

"Thanks," said Sirius with a grin.

"And I have a Portkey to take you all back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore's expecting you." Frank took a folded newspaper from his pocket. "Activates in two minutes. Oh, and the families have been informed that their children are all right. Letha's waiting for you at Hogwarts with Meghan."

Sirius' grin grew wider. "Excellent. You coming?"

"No, Dawlish and I are going to clean up around here. You go on, I'll cage the rat for you."

**The ropes will go out as soon as you do,** said Remus.

Frank nodded. "Thanks. Have fun scaring the robes off Letha."

"Hey, now, I'm the only one allowed to fantasize about that." Sirius slid Danger's front half off his lap, got up, and accepted the Portkey from Frank. "Say hello to Alice for us."

**And come around sometime, when we get settled,** said Danger.

"Will do." Frank turned and left.

**I notice you didn't tell him about Godric's Hollow,** said Remus.

"That's private. Marauders only."

Danger laughed. **If you say so. Come on, let's get the cubs on there. Wouldn't do to leave one of them behind. **

All four sleeping children were attached to the Portkey, the wolves each put a paw on it, and Sirius sat down cross-legged, placing his hand in the center. Right on time, it activated, yanking them away by their navels through the rush of color and sound. Sirius wondered idly where a wolf's navel was.

The Portkey delivered them to the hospital wing. True to the message, Dumbledore and Aletha were waiting there for them, as well as a plump red-haired woman who must be Ron's mother. She and Madam Pomfrey descended on the heap of children, wands drawn, and levitated out Ron and Harry respectively, moving them rapidly to beds.

Meghan jumped over Danger into Sirius' arms, nearly knocking him over backwards. "I haven't been gone that long, sweetheart," he protested, laughing a little.

"But I was very worried about you while you were."

"You sound just like your mum." Sirius kissed her forehead, standing up.

"What's with the wildlife?" asked Aletha, coming over to him.

**I beg your pardon?**

Aletha's eyes grew very large, and Dumbledore's eyebrows went up.

"Er, I think we should go somewhere else for this," said Sirius quickly. "So we don't disturb anyone. Nice," he muttered under his breath to Danger.

Danger slapped him across the legs with her tail.

"I did not just hear what I thought I heard," said Aletha faintly. "Did I?"

"In private, love? Please?" Sirius drew his wand and conjured something like a stretcher under the sleeping Reynard and Hermione, lifting them from the ground. "Do you have a guest room or something we can use, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded, the faintest hint of a smile playing across his lips. "I have just the one."

Once they were all inside the large, comfortable living room of the nearby suite, Sirius set the cubs down and allowed the stretcher to vanish. Aletha sat on one of the chairs, still staring at the two adult wolves. Meghan had caught her mother's mood and was quiet and intense.

"My friends in low places, I presume?" said Dumbledore with a smile.

Remus bowed. **At your service, sir.** He turned. **Hello, Letha. Good to see you again. **

Aletha shook her head. "This can't be. It just can't..."

**How's the new Bach piece coming?** asked Danger. **Have you gotten past that tricky passage in measure 37 yet? **

Aletha gasped. "You know... but I didn't tell anyone about that..."

**It was in your latest letter. Come on, Letha, it didn't take Sirius nearly this long. It's really us. We're alive. **

"Oh my God." Aletha slid off the couch and went to her knees, her face breaking into a smile even as tears appeared in her eyes. "Danger..."

**And I'll be human again in the morning. You just watch. **Danger loped across the room and laid her head on Aletha's shoulder, allowing her friend to embrace her. **I'm so sorry we had to be gone so long. But we're back now. And look who we have with us...**

Aletha wiped her eyes and looked. "The twins," she said, smiling. "Your twins. They're real."

**Though they're not quite who you thought they were,** said Remus. **Reynard is actually ours, but Griselda was another name for Hermione. **

"Hermione's alive?"

**Oh yes. **Danger sat back on her haunches. **Hmm, I'm a Seer tonight, and I See another storytelling session coming up. Am I right?**

"Indubitably," said Dumbledore, who didn't look at all surprised. Sirius made a mental note to try to find out how long the Headmaster had known about this.

Meghan was staring at the wolves. "Dadfoot?" she said doubtfully. "Are they really..."

"Yes, they are really," Sirius said, pulling her into his lap. "Your Uncle Remus and your Aunt Danger, really and truly here to stay. And Hermione, you know about her, she would have been your big sister, and Reynard will be another brother for you, just like Harry."

"And now that Voldemort is no more," said Dumbledore, "Harry may safely live with you, instead of with his relatives."

Remus and Danger looked very smug. **Actually,** said Danger, **I don't think he will...**

* * *

Danger roused into wakefulness, hearing the birds begin to greet each other. **Wake up,** she called. **It's almost sunrise. **

**And this is one sunrise I don't want to miss.** Remus yawned immensely. **Should we wake them for it?**

**No, let them sleep. I want just one moment with you and only you.** Danger opened the door onto the balcony with a paw. **Alone.**

They padded quietly out and shut the door behind them. The twilight of dawn lay over the grounds of Hogwarts. The Forest was a dark mass in the distance, individual trees on the lawn beginning to be visible here and there. Only the brightest stars were still shining, and even those dimmed as they watched, as the glory of the sun began to drown them out...

Danger shivered all over as she felt the change begin deep within her, as her body reshaped itself to greet the day, giving her again the shape she'd been born with. In all the years of changing, she had never quite grown accustomed to it.

_Maybe if it had happened every day, like it was supposed to..._

_But now it will. So now I'll have my chance. _

One thing, though, was missing, that had been present for a very long time. No confining grasp clutched her throat, nothing pressed in on her breath and made her feel as if she were drowning. Similarly, she saw as she opened her eyes, nothing marred the strong lines of Remus' neck. He could have posed, at this moment, for a bust of everything noble about humanity.

His eyes opened and fell on her, and he smiled. "Free," he said quietly.

"Free." Danger took two steps forward and was in his arms, laying her head against his chest, running her hand up and down the side of his neck, marveling at the feel of his skin against hers, with nothing for her hand to catch on, nothing in the way. His hands were traveling similarly around her neck, caressing her without tickling, a difficult proposition, but he managed. She could feel teardrops falling into her hair, and knew she was wetting his shirt with her own tears, but they were tears of joy.

Twelve years to the day after they'd been taken captive, the Lupins were finally free.

A few kisses later, they returned indoors, to see the other great treat in store for them. Their cubs were still asleep, still cuddled together as they had been the night before, Ray's face against Hermione's chest.

**My pretty Kitten,** said Remus lovingly, lifting her in his arms and laying her on the couch. She stirred but didn't wake. **But let's see our fox. **

Danger gently rolled Reynard onto his back, and her breath caught. **Oh, Remus, just look at him!**

**I am looking. Trust me, I am. **Remus' eyes traveled over his son's face as if drinking it in, not wishing to miss a single detail.

Ray's eyelids fluttered. **Hmmm?** he said sleepily.

"Time to wake up, Ray," Remus said aloud, quietly, coming to sit on his son's other side. "It's morning."

"Morning?" Eyes suddenly opened wide. "Mum? Dad?"

"That's who we are," said Danger, bending over her son and stroking a wayward piece of hair out of his face. "And now the world can know it."

Ray sat up slowly, the smile that so became his Malfoy looks ten times more attractive on this new face, Danger thought. "It wasn't a dream. I thought it had to be, but it wasn't. It was real."

"Very real," said Remus, pressing his own hand against Ray's. "Look, Danger. Do you see?"

"He has your hands." Danger felt as if she could never stop smiling. "Musician's hands. Those long fingers."

Ray intertwined his fingers, staring at them as if he'd never seen them before.

_He never has. Not like this. _

Remus had his wand out, he was doing something – Danger sneaked a quick peek through his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. **You think of everything, don't you, love?**

**No, only most things. **

"I have your hair, Mum," said Ray, running his hands through it. "All crinkly."

"That's right. You're going to have to get it cut, it's too long like this – this length was all right when it was straight and flat, but it's a bit unmanageable now."

"You may want this," said Remus, handing his son the object he'd conjured.

It was a large hand mirror.

Reynard stared at his reflection, transfixed. "That's me," he said quietly. "That's really me. That's what I really look like. Isn't it?"

Both his parents nodded, Danger sniffling a bit but still smiling, Remus' eyes looking suspiciously bright.

Reynard's eyes matched Remus' in every way, size, shape, and color. His facial structure was very similar too, although his nose was a bit smaller, tending towards Danger's size. As he had already discovered for himself, his hair was the brown bushy Granger type, and his skin was still fair, but not the porcelain pale it had been when he had worn the glamour of Draco Malfoy.

Ray looked up from the mirror. "I like it," he said.

"Well, I'm glad," said Remus with a smile. "You're stuck with it."

Ray laughed aloud, waking Hermione, who looked around in confusion for a moment, then gave a little scream of joy and tumbled off the couch to join her family.

If she ever needed to conjure a Patronus, Danger knew, this would be the moment she would think of. Twelve years of servitude and pain faded into the unimportant past as she gave way to happiness.

They were free.

* * *

Sirius, Aletha, Harry, and Meghan came up to visit later. "You're very handsome," said Meghan, surveying Reynard. "I think Luna will like you." 

"Who's Luna?"

"She's a friend of ours, a year younger than Harry," said Sirius. "You'll meet her eventually."

Remus shook his head. "There's so much to think about," he said. "Where are we going to live? How are we going to keep food on the table until we find jobs?"

"What do you mean, where are you going to live?" said Aletha challengingly. "You live in London, at number 73 Crozer Street, remember?"

"You're kidding me," said Danger. "You kept the house?"

Sirius shrugged. "Why get rid of it? It wasn't doing any harm."

"We've kept it up," said Aletha. "You could move in today, if you liked."

"And as for food, if you can still remember how to cook the way you used to, we'll be glad to supply ingredients," said Sirius to Danger.

Danger laughed. "I think I'll remember pretty quickly once I get back in the kitchen."

"Just like riding a broomstick?" asked Remus slyly.

"Oh, don't even start!" Danger's mishaps on a broom were the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Rumor had it she was responsible for a certain divot in the stone of the castle, thirty feet up, and that she hadn't meant to be.

"You know, it might be nice to live in London again," said Aletha thoughtfully. "Now that there's enough of us to fill up the house."

Harry looked alarmed. "You're moving?"

"If we do, you're going with us," said Sirius. "Remember? Voldemort's dead. You killed him. You don't ever have to go back to the Dursleys."

This consequence of his thrown rock apparently hadn't occurred to Harry. His face lit up for a moment, then shut down again. "But I don't like big cities. At least I don't think I would. It would always be noisy and busy and smelly."

"I want to live in the city," said Meghan. "When are we going?"

The adults all laughed. "Mistress Mary, there, Meghan," teased Danger. "Don't ask for things just because someone else doesn't like them."

"But I do want to. It's closer to everything important. Like the Ministry where Dadfoot works, and the hospital. I want to be a healer like Mum when I grow up."

"Dadfoot?" said Remus, one eyebrow lifted.

Sirius shrugged. "She heard Harry calling me Padfoot all the time. What can I say?"

"You know, it strikes me that everyone could be satisfied in this case," said Aletha. "If what you said last night about..." Her eyes flickered across Harry. "...comes true. They could have number seventeen."

Sirius laughed. "You've never liked Petunia, have you, Letha?"

Ron turned up at ten o'clock, claiming he'd been released from the hospital wing, though Danger suspected he'd escaped when Madam Pomfrey had her back turned. "You look like a male Hermione," he said to Reynard.

"Do not."

"Do so."

"I think it's the hair," said Harry, cutting them both off. "Their faces don't really look a lot alike."

* * *

Halfway down the stairs an hour or so later, Ron turned back. Hermione was still standing at the top, gripping the banister, an odd look on her face. Harry, Ray, and Meghan had already vanished into the hallway below, off to look for Neville. 

Ron came back up the stairs. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I've never done stairs before. Not as a human. Not for real. In dreams, if you fall, you don't get hurt. But it's a long way down. And I don't really know how to do it."

"It's not too hard," Ron said. "Here, I'll help you." He put one arm around her waist. "Lean on me. You won't fall then."

Hermione timidly let go the banister with one hand and quickly put that arm around Ron's waist.

"Now, put all your weight on one foot, lift up the other one, and put it on the next stair down. Like this." Ron demonstrated, then brought his foot back up. "Now you try."

Carefully, Hermione shifted her weight to her left leg, then lowered her right foot to the next step.

"Good. Now put your weight on that one, and move this leg to the stair below that."

Little by little, they moved down the stairs together, arms around each other.

"Thank you, Ron," said Hermione when they had reached the bottom. "Thank you so much."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, then hurried off the way the others had gone.

Ron stood still for a moment, his fingers lightly touching the place her lips had been, then followed her.

There were other stairways to take before they got where they were going.

* * *

(A/N: If you haven't figured out yet what's going to happen at Godric's Hollow... but you might not have. So you will, later. Whenever I write the next chapter. Depends on whether I get inspired for this or LwoD first. :cackles in glee: 

Credit where credit's due: mistress editor came up with Sirius' second name for Voldemort. I thought it was so great that I couldn't resist using it. Hope you don't mind.

You know what I'm going to ask you to do. So why bother to say it? Oh, and I'm sorry if I confused anybody with the blue bowtruckles line in LwoD. All that meant was that Sirius was really drunk one night, and hates being reminded of it because he acted like an idiot. :grin:)


	16. Expectations Fulfilled

Chapter 16: Expectations Fulfilled

"We should definitely be freaking out a lot more about this," said Sirius to Aletha as they followed Remus and Danger up the path. "Screaming and running around and such. With what happened last night, and what's supposedly going to happen tonight..."

"I think we're running on shock. It will eventually wear off, and then we'll probably collapse for a few days and just react."

"Hmm. A few days in bed, with you." Sirius wiggled his eyebrows.

"You dog." Aletha pushed him playfully, then jogged to catch up with Remus and Danger.

The house echoed emptily as they walked through it. "It's as if no one lives here," said Aletha, keeping her voice low.

"No one does." Remus spoke in a normal tone. "Narcissa's gone. She freed Dobby and left."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding – where's she going to go?"

"Who knows," said Danger. "She's been saving money under her own name for years."

"Of course." Sirius grinned. "One of the traditional duties of the lady of the house is to keep the household accounts. Trust Narcissa to be ready for anything."

As they approached their destination more closely, conversation ceased. Remus and Danger were very quiet, and Aletha could see signs of stress on their faces. She knew better than to offer any kind of sympathy; in the state they were in, it would be interpreted as pity, and both of them hated being pitied.

Remus knelt at one place and ran his hand along a place on the stone wall, smiling slightly. "One of our little disobediences," he said. "The things that kept us sane. Every so often, when Lucius would come down to let us out at night, we would stop and sharpen our claws here."

"And we'd take our time," said Danger, the faintest spark of mischief lighting her otherwise sober eyes. "We learned just how far we could push him before he'd actually try to compel us to go, and we'd always push just a little past the danger zone. It was fun, watching him stand there and fret."

Remus stood back up and led the way to the end of the hall, which had a plain wooden door set into the left wall. He put his hand to the doorknob and turned it.

The room beyond was small, plain, and dingy. The ceiling was several inches lower than was the hallway outside, so that Remus could barely stand upright within, and Sirius had to duck. Three mattresses lay side by side on the floor, with a tangle of stained and ripped sheets lying on top. A small folding table with one leg so bent that it was barely usable, three rickety wooden chairs, and a shelf made of rough boards and bricks, with a few simple items sitting on it, completed the furnishings. A door to one side was ajar, leading into a small, rude bathroom. A window high on the wall furnished the room's only light.

No one spoke. In Aletha's case, she was simply too shaken to speak, shaken by the thought of spending all the time when one was human for twelve years in a room like this. It seemed almost worse than being in prison, even in Azkaban, because there it was obvious that no effort was being spent on comfort. Here, the contempt was visible in the mockeries of the things the room's occupants should have had.

Remus and Sirius started taking the few things off the shelf, packing them in the bags brought for the occasion. Danger was kneeling beside the mattresses. She looked up at Aletha. "Here," she said with a brave attempt at a smile. "This is where Reynard was born."

Aletha knelt beside her friend and touched her hand. She could feel Danger shaking, and knew with near certainty why.

_Even that – the birth of a child, supposed to be one of the most joyous things that can happen to a couple – even that was twisted and mocked by this. What if Narcissa's child had lived? How long could they have kept him hidden? How long before Lucius heard a baby crying where no baby should be? _

"We were so lucky," said Danger in a low tone. "In so many ways. I went into labor just around dawn, so it hadn't progressed very far by the time we came in, and he didn't notice. Ray was born in just an hour or two, and since we were already in mental contact, we could keep him from crying. Even now, he hardly ever makes a sound if he gets hurt or startled."

_One worry off their minds. Among several million others. There were so many ways they could have been found out..._

"Dobby brought us some of the nappies and things that were ready for Narcissa's child. I fed him, and we named him. Dobby promised to watch him and bring him to us if he needed to be fed in the night. Before the sun went down, we made him a nest out of the sheets, and Remus surrounded it with fire, tamed down so it wouldn't burn him, just keep him warm. He still didn't like it, though. He could feel in our minds that this meant we'd be leaving him, and he wanted us to stay, because he couldn't grasp the concept that we'd come back."

_To feel your child's fear, and not be able to do anything about it. God, what a nightmare for a parent. Lucius deserves everything he's getting. _

"And then, just before sunset, Dobby came and told us that Narcissa's baby had been born dead." Danger's smile was strained. "I don't remember – probably because I don't want to remember – if I'd been thinking about that. I'd hate to think that I was ill-wishing her, but if I'm being realistic, I probably was. Because that one thing changed everything. That put us in a position of power for the first time in so long. And it's awful to think that way about my own child, and hers, but I know I did."

"You did the best thing you could have," said Aletha, not sure if she should speak but feeling compelled. "And now it's over."

Danger nodded. Remus and Sirius were waiting by the door as the women got up. They filed out of the room, Remus going last. Aletha had gone a few steps down the hall, following Sirius, when she realized the Lupins weren't following them. She turned back.

Remus was standing at the end of the hallway, staring at the room. Aletha took an involuntary step backwards as she saw his profile. To a stranger, he might have looked calm, but Aletha knew him, even if she hadn't seen him in a long time, and she could read the subtle emotional signs on his face. He feared this room, and hated it tremendously, and it made him furiously angry. Probably the only thing which would inspire more of those emotions in him was Lucius Malfoy himself. And all of those feelings had been locked inside him for a very long time indeed...

"Stay back," Danger warned quietly.

Remus lifted his hands and looked at them. Then, suddenly, he thrust them out before him, as if expecting something to shoot from his fingertips.

Something did.

Aletha gasped as flame erupted from Remus' hands and roared into the room, destroying everything in its path, she had no doubt. She could feel the heat even from where she stood, ten or fifteen feet down the hall. Remus' face was slowly becoming calmer, as he poured his anger and hate out through the fire streaming from his hands, as he destroyed the relics of their years of slavery.

_Righteous anger. And righteous hatred, if there is such a thing. If there is, Lucius Malfoy seems a likely candidate to be its target. _

Even as Aletha watched, the torrent of flame slowed and finally ceased, and Remus turned towards them and smiled. It was a small smile, but it was genuine, not dredged up to try to make them feel better.

"Nice," said Sirius from behind her. Aletha turned to see a look of considering admiration on Sirius' face, as though he were both impressed and thinking of ways Remus might use this power. Most likely, she thought a bit cynically, he was dreaming up new pranks the two of them could play.

_Three of them, if they're right about tonight..._

"Thank you," said Remus casually, picking up the bag he'd put down. "Shall we?"

* * *

Ray was outdoors in the October sunlight, running and shouting with his friends, forgetful of the note which still lay in an inner pocket of his robes. 

He would discover it and open it later that day.

* * *

_My dear child,_

_I am not even sure I may use that appellation towards you. You are not, in any real sense of the word, mine. The world sees you as such, but your first loyalty has always lain (correctly, I believe) with your blood parents. Also, I have never showed you a great deal of affection, so you may not believe that you are dear to me. But you are, Reynard, you are. _

_I think that perhaps I would not have appreciated a child of my own body quite as I do you. We tend to treasure gifts more highly than things we obtain for ourselves. And you were a gift to me, though one that I have always intended someday to return to the givers. You gave me a great deal. Not only the position and the power that I first craved, but, slowly, other things as well. You taught me what true innocence looked like, and true happiness, and true love, simply by being an innocent, happy, loving and beloved child. _

_You have always been respectful and obedient towards me, and I know that I can expect no more. Your own mother and father, your lupine sister, and the friends you have made deserve your love more than I do. So I ask for only one favor from you. Do not forget me entirely. Think of me kindly from time to time. _

_It seems unlikely that we shall meet again for some years to come. I have always secretly wished to travel, unencumbered and free. I have been diverting money from Lucius' vault for years and placing it in my own name, to make my dream a reality. The rest of what he owns is yours, as the enclosed parchment will verify. I wish you luck in your endeavors, and I remain_

_Your loving mother_

_Narcissa_

* * *

Hogwarts wasn't a large school, but it was large enough that there were occasionally people around whom one might not know. No one questioned Ray or Hermione that day, although they did get the occasional interested look. 

"You shall be Sorted tomorrow," said Professor Dumbledore over dinner, which they had in the suite where the Lupins had spent the night. "I believe it is best for all concerned if Draco Malfoy and his wolf simply disappear. I shall drop a word into a few ears, and they will not be sought particularly hard. Your family has been traveling for several years," he said to Hermione and Ray, "and were unable to return to England in time for the school year to begin. But you are here now, and your teachers will be simply astounded at how quickly you catch up with your classmates."

"But sir, won't people notice?" asked Ray. "I mean, my looks have changed, but my voice is the same. Dean and Seamus are bound to realize something's up."

"We'll figure something out, Ray," said his mum. "Burn that bridge when we come to it." She wasn't eating much, Ray noticed. Neither of his parents were, come to think. They were all in human form, thanks to the stash of potion he kept in his trunk – maybe that was affecting them somehow.

"We're going out tonight, cubs," said his dad now. "You'll have the suite to yourselves. Behave, or you'll wish you had."

Ray nodded. Hermione looked slightly offended that they didn't trust her to behave. She'd had a grand day, as his mum had taken her on a "Granger girls shopping spree" at Diagon Alley, buying everything she'd need now that she was actually a student at Hogwarts. The detail of her being technically nineteen days too young was being overlooked – after all, the rule was that one had to be eleven before one started at Hogwarts, and she hadn't really started yet, she'd been more of a guest...

But he and his dad had had a still more marvelous day. It was the first time outside his dreams that they had spent a long time together as humans, free to go where they liked and do what they liked. He'd insisted on seeing everything interesting in the castle, all the secret passages and hideaways, and on hearing all the stories from Hogwarts over again.

Padfoot had joined them for a few hours in the afternoon (it seemed easiest to adopt Harry's name for him, since it was a name Ray knew well), and had told several stories Ray had never heard, most of which were not overly complimentary to his dad, and one of which had ended with his dad chasing Padfoot down a hall at wandpoint. Professor Dumbledore kept a few spare wands in his office, just in case someone truly needed a replacement in a hurry, and his mum and dad had each borrowed one of these the night before, though his mum had bought herself a new one when she bought Hermione's, and his dad would be going to Ollivander's soon.

"I believe," said Professor Dumbledore quietly to him and Hermione over pudding, while his mum and dad had a silent conversation, "that two or three young Gryffindors may be taken with a wish to wander tonight. And I also believe that Mr. Filch shall not be in the way to find them. So it remains only for them to have a place to arrive, and someone awake to receive them."

Ray and Hermione traded a quick smile. "Yes, sir," said Ray.

"You should also be aware that the Hogwarts house-elves regard the students as masters, at least to some degree," said Dumbledore casually. "However, your parents' edict still stands, and to it I shall add a wish that you disturb no one else, and that you not see too much of tomorrow before going to sleep tonight."

"We understand, sir," said Hermione, nodding earnestly. **How many people,** she said silently to Ray, **can honestly say the Headmaster of Hogwarts gave them permission to have a party after bedtime?**

**Not many, I don't think. But maybe Dad and the other Marauders once or twice. I know he liked them. **

Nor was that the end of the surprises. Meghan Black arrived at quarter to nine with her parents, both of whom seemed tremendously excited over something. One more press on the shoulder from his dad, and a quick embrace from his mum, and the four adults were out the door, all looking as if Christmas had come early.

"What d'you reckon?" Ray asked the girls.

"They wouldn't tell me anything," said Meghan. "But they've been funny all day. Looking at the clock a lot, and Mum was playing scales in this way she does when she's waiting for something. And Dadfoot was shredding parchment and pacing when he got back from work." She giggled. "He says I can come and see Wormtail sometime if I'm good. Do you want to know what he did to him?"

Ray nodded eagerly, but Hermione looked unsure. "Shouldn't you wait until the boys get here?" she asked.

This required a little explanation, since Meghan hadn't known the boys were coming, and in the middle of it a knock sounded on the door and Harry, Ron, and Neville tumbled into the room, heady with the excitement of being out of bed and out of bounds after hours with the personal okay of the Headmaster.

"All right," said Meghan when everyone had gotten settled. "Dadfoot took Wormtail to the Magical Menagerie and bought him a fancy cage, with a running wheel. And he enchanted the wheel, so that it records how much Wormtail runs on it. And how much he gets to eat every day depends on how much he runs."

"So he has to run, or he'll starve," said Ron. He hadn't quite gotten over the indignity of having his family play host, however unknowingly, to a traitor and murderer. "Serves him right."

"Does anyone else know about this?" asked Neville.

"Your mum and dad, and mine, and Ray's. And Professor Dumbledore, I think, but he knows everything. Nobody else."

"Except us," said Harry. "But we won't tell."

Six heads shook. The secret was safe with them.

After a little more talking, it was generally decided to be time for refreshments, and several spirited rounds of rock, paper, scissors decided that Harry would be the lucky one to do the calling.

"Kady!" he said loudly.

A house-elf appeared with a loud snap in the corner of the room. "Master called?" she squeaked, smiling at Harry. She had approached him during Hermione's birthday party and asked him very diffidently if he might be related to Mister James Potter. It turned out she remembered the Marauders fondly, and was inclined to like Harry from that moment onward.

"Yes, I did. We're having another party. Professor Dumbledore said it was all right," Harry added quickly when just the faintest trace of disapproval appeared in Kady's large brown eyes. "And we won't stay up too late. But we need some food and drinks and stuff. Can you and some of the others bring some up for us?"

Kady nodded, smiling again, and disappeared, returning a few moments later with three other house-elves, all carrying laden plates and pitchers of pumpkin juice.

"What are your names?" asked Hermione, taking a plate from one of them.

With downcast eyes, the house-elves introduced themselves as Grabe and Fips (both male) and Mitsy (another female).

"Nice to meet you all," said Neville politely.

"We'll be down to the kitchens again," said Ron, taking a large bite out of a chocolate éclair. "So we'll be seeing you."

"Thank you for all this," added Ray.

The house-elves blushed and disappeared as one.

* * *

The village of Godric's Hollow was quiet and sleepy, and always had been. There had been that excitement some years ago – good heavens, it was exactly ten years tonight, as some people realized hazily when they stopped to think – when a house on the outskirts of town had burned to the ground, with no sign of the family who had lived there, either that they'd escaped safely or that they'd died inside. 

Nothing had ever been built on the lot where the house had stood. It was fenced off to keep children from wandering in and harming themselves on a stray nail or piece of rough board. The wooden fence was more than six feet tall, shielding the neighborhood from the sight of the plot of ground (which was said to be cursed). However, that same fence also blocked anyone from seeing anything else unusual that might go on there.

Such as four people appearing there out of nowhere, rigging up a large white tent, and settling in to wait, each in their own way.

Aletha pleated at her robes, rubbing them between her fingers. Sirius paced. Danger folded and refolded a scrap of parchment. And Remus made flames appear and disappear in the air. After a while, the other three stopped what they were doing to watch him, and Remus made his displays accordingly fancier, enlisting Danger's help on a few.

"It doesn't burn you at all?" asked Sirius in fascination, watching Remus run a trickle of fire up and down his arm. "Would it burn me?"

"Not if I tell it not to." Remus twitched a fingertip, and Sirius jerked slightly as the flame suddenly sprang over to him, but managed not to actually jump back.

"It tickles," he said, holding it in his palm. "And it's warm, but not hot."

Remus nodded, collecting the flame with another finger twitch. "That's what it feels like to me," he said. "And to Ray. It appears to travel father to son. Maybe if we have a daughter, she'll have dream powers."

Danger smiled. "It could always happen."

"We might think about that, too," said Aletha, twining an arm around Sirius. "We never could before, obviously, since I was supposed to be a widow, and it's too much to hope Petunia Dursley wouldn't notice. As she does everything."

"We'll have something excellent for her to notice soon," said Sirius, choosing to disregard this otherwise alarming sentiment in his wife in favor of checking his watch. "It's just eleven now."

"All right," said Danger. "Let's get started, then."

Everyone leaned back in their chairs, closed their eyes, and tried to relax. "That's good, love," murmured Danger. "Letha, not quite... Sirius, you're almost there, a little more... there, I've got you now. Come on, Letha, we're just waiting for you..."

Sirius sat up and looked around. To all appearances, the only thing which had changed was that fully half the chairs in their circle were now empty, instead of the one-third it had been a moment before. But he knew he was actually dreaming all of this. Danger was generating this dream, bringing them into it as they relaxed enough for a sleep-like state.

It had been very easy for her to recreate the tent, since she had had ample time to study it, and was in it at the moment. Her job now, as Aletha appeared in the same chair where she was sitting in real life, would be rather harder. The four of them got up and walked outside.

Danger was going to try to reconstruct the Potters' house. Her own memories of it were vague and blurred by time, and the other three weren't much better, but together they ought to be able to do it.

Suggestions of walls sprang into place as Danger paced around the plot. "The front door was here," she muttered, "and the back door was... here?"

"More to the left," said Aletha. "No, your other left."

Once they had the outside mapped out, they moved on to the interior, which sparked one or two disagreements, but they had a fairly coherent reproduction by eleven-twenty. Now they just had to figure out, as best they could, where James and Lily had been.

"Lily would have been in Harry's room," said Aletha surely. "So that's in here." She pushed the door open – this dream house was solid, allowing them access to all parts of it. "But I don't know about James."

"Downstairs," said Sirius just as surely, running down half the stairs, then jumping to the floor below. "Trying to hold Voldemort off. Probably guarding the stairs, so that would put him..." He looked around the main floor. "Here. Or hereabouts."

"All right," said Remus. "Marking the spots..."

A large flame appeared where they thought James might have stood, and Sirius heard Aletha's low sound of wonder and was sure one had appeared for Lily as well.

"Ready when you are, love."

Danger closed her eyes for a moment, and Remus disappeared. The walls of the house turned transparent. Sirius looked up appreciatively. Aletha hastily moved away, glowering at him.

Remus, in the real world, was using his connection with Danger to see the dream house superimposed on reality, so that he could place his markers in real life. Those markers would be very important in...

Sirius checked his watch. Five minutes.

It was suddenly harder to breathe than it had been, and everything seemed uncomfortably warm. What if Remus and Danger were wrong? What if Voldemort had lied to them, or changed his mind once he arrived at the house?

_Then we'll know. We're adults, we can cope with disappointment. _

But he had seldom felt less adult than he did at this moment. He wanted it to happen, and he wanted it to happen now...

"He's done," said Danger as Aletha descended the almost-invisible stairs. "Ready to go back?"

The Blacks nodded, and in an instant Sirius was opening his real eyes and stretching his real arms and legs. Everyone else looked as excited and worried as he felt, he noticed.

He and Remus stood one on either side of the flame which marked James' place, which faded away once they were in position. Danger and Aletha had their wands out, standing under Lily's flame, which had not faded but broken into smaller flames, scattered about the proper area of the sky and, Sirius assumed, invisible to anyone but themselves.

_Moony's good with details. No need to worry. _

But he did worry. He worried a great deal.

Until he heard the screaming start.

* * *

The pain drowned out conscious thought, all that was left in the world was pain and darkness and the sound of his own screams, he'd never been anything but a mass of pain – 

And suddenly it was over, and he was falling, stumbling backwards, and thought and purpose came back to him in a rush.

_I have to save them... I have to help them..._

"Gotcha!" said a voice, and he impacted hard against someone else, someone who was apparently prepared for him, who had been ready to catch him.

Anyone who was prepared for him here must be an enemy. He lashed out, striking at the person wildly. He would not go down without a fight.

"Hey, watch it!" the other man protested, fending off his blows. His eyes were open now, but he still couldn't see very well – he'd lost his glasses somewhere along the way, and it was dark, and whoever this bloke was, he was behind him...

"_Prongs!_ Cool it!"

The sound of his nickname shocked him into momentary immobility, and his mind caught up with his body and gave him the speaker's identity before he could act again.

"Padfoot?" He pulled away and turned around.

"Nobody else," said his best friend, whom he could now see fuzzily, grinning at him. Something seemed odd about him, but James couldn't quite identify it.

"You might need these," said another familiar voice from behind him, and a hand came over his shoulder, holding his glasses.

James took them quickly and put them on, looking at the speaker. "_Moony?_"

"Good to see you again, Prongs."

"Where did you come from?" James accepted Remus' hand and got to his feet. "And what the hell happened to you? You look ten years older than you did the last time I saw you."

Remus shrugged a little, then suddenly turned his head. "Not now," he said, staring into the sky. "In a few minutes."

"A few... what's going on? And..." James realized where he was, and what was missing. "What happened to my house? And what happened to..."

A scream stopped his questions immediately. "Lily," he finished, looking around wildly for the source of the cry. "Lily!"

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" shouted two female voices.

The screaming stopped abruptly, and James got oriented in time to see Lily drifting to the ground in a leisurely way, staring around her. He ran forward and caught her as the spell ended, pulling her close.

"Are we dead?" she asked shakily from her place against his chest. "Because I know you're dead. Are we dead too?"

Turning to see who she was talking to, James somehow wasn't surprised to see Danger Granger-Lupin standing there. Wherever you found Moony, after all, you found Danger, sooner or later. And it was more often sooner than later.

_Geez, she looks older too. What happened to them?_

"We're not dead, Lily," said another voice, and Aletha Freeman-Black came around them to face them. "No one's dead here. We're all alive."

James wondered slightly at the tone in her voice, which bespoke a very powerful thanksgiving, as of something that the speaker had given up hope for. Was it for Remus and Danger? He'd certainly given up hope of ever seeing them alive again... they must have just returned, or been rescued, that night, so that the Potters wouldn't yet have heard...

_But where's the house? And where's Harry?_

Lily seemed to have shared his second thought. "Harry," she breathed. "What's happened to Harry?"

"He's all right," said Sirius quickly. "Harry's perfectly fine, he's alive and well, he's safe. Nothing's happened to him."

"Let's go inside," suggested Danger, pointing to a tent which had appeared in a corner of the Potters' front yard, which was now fenced off, James saw.

_How did all this happen? When did it happen?_

His suspicions that all was not as it seemed grew. Especially when they were in the tent, and he got a good look at all his friends.

Sirius and Aletha had the same aged look as Remus and Danger. It didn't look unnatural, though, as if they'd had a shock – it looked as if they'd just aged normally. As if...

_A fate worse than death..._

James carefully shunted the voice out of his mind. He'd think about it in a few minutes, when he wasn't quite so rattled.

Lily accepted a mug of tea from Aletha and blew on it. It wasn't filled quite to the top, James saw. A wise precaution, since Lily's hands were still shaking, and he suspected his own were as well. Sure enough, his mug of hot chocolate was filled a little less than he might have liked, but if it meant he wouldn't spill it on himself, he was all for it.

He took a sip of the stuff, feeling it scald his tongue slightly and warm his throat as it went down. There were exactly six chairs, he saw now, and six mugs. It was obvious they'd been expected.

_But how can they have expected us? There wasn't time to expect anything. No one knew Voldemort was coming, and if they'd known, they would have come in and fought with us, not rigged up a tent and offered us something to drink afterwards! _

_Something is not right here._

"So," said Remus finally, breaking the silence. "You want answers, I'm sure."

James nodded.

"What is going on?" Lily burst out. "What's happened to our house? And exactly where is Harry? Who's taking care of him? I want to know, and I want to know right now!"

Everyone looked at Sirius. Sirius looked at his tea, then up at Lily. "Harry's at Hogwarts, Lily," he said. "Dumbledore's taking care of him, as much as anyone is. And your house was destroyed, as far as we know, when Voldemort failed to kill him."

"Failed to kill him?" James repeated incredulously, as Lily blanched.

"Lily, did you take a curse for Harry?" asked Aletha. "Stop it by taking it on yourself?"

Lily nodded. "Of course I did."

"That sacrifice seems to have given him protection," said Danger. "Enough protection that the Killing Curse Voldemort tried to use on him not only didn't kill him, but reflected back on Voldemort, and on your house, tearing both of them to pieces."

"But... the curse I took was the Killing Curse." Lily looked bewildered. "I should be dead."

Remus shook his head. "It wasn't the Killing Curse," he said certainly. "Voldemort didn't intend to kill Harry when he came to your house. He intended to buy himself time."

"Buy himself time?" James could see his own confusion mirrored on Lily's face. "Time for what?"

"Time to become more powerful," said Aletha. "Time to become so strong that his opponent would have no chance against him."

"Harry's a baby!" Lily cried. "He had no chance in any case!"

"Well, with your help, actually, he defeated Voldemort," said Sirius smugly. "And the Snark Lord was gone for quite a long time."

James tensed. They were close to the heart of the mystery. "How can he have been gone for a long time," he asked carefully, "when he was in our house tonight?"

Suddenly no one would meet his eyes. It was Remus who finally looked at him. "James, that was ten years ago," he said quietly. "It's been ten years since Voldemort disappeared. That was what he came to your house intending to do. To push Harry ten years forward in time. But instead he did it to both of you. We've all thought you were dead for the last ten years."

_Ten years forward in time..._

Suddenly everything made a sick kind of sense. The way all his friends looked older. The fence, obviously in place for a long time. The house, just as obviously demolished for even longer.

_They came here tonight to wait for us. But if they thought we were dead..._

"How did you know?" he asked. "That we'd be here?"

"Long story," said Danger. "Short version, Voldemort told us himself."

James felt his mouth drop open. Lily supplied the word he wanted.

"_Why?_"

"Overconfidence, I suppose," said Remus. "And the pleasure of knowing he could do anything he wanted to our friends, and we couldn't do anything to stop him." He smiled. "But we could remember. And we did."

"Where were you, then?" asked Lily, leaning forward. "That Voldemort would talk to you? And when did you get free?"

"And what's been happening with you two?" said James to Sirius and Aletha. "You can't just have been sitting around all this time."

In the back of his mind, he knew he would react more later, that he would be very angry at having missed out on ten years of his life, and for that matter, ten years of Harry's life. But at the moment, he was perfectly willing to accept the illusion that nothing had changed, that this was just another evening with his friends, like so many he'd enjoyed before, and that everything would be perfectly all right.

And something was telling him that last one might not be an illusion after all.

* * *

(A/N: Kudos to those who got it, and smiles to those who didn't. I think one or two more chapters to this, then an epilogue, and another AU is finished... and I shall not abandon "Living without Danger", either. It too will be updated quite soon. :cackles: As long as you review, my pretties. 

Guess what, everyone – I'm legal! That's right, as of yesterday I can buy and/or consume alcoholic beverages in the United States of America. I feel so grown-up. And scared. Can I just stay in school for another ten years, please? I like it here. Oh well. That's why I want to be a teacher, I guess. I just can't give up summer vacation.)


	17. Epilogue: Just Deserts

Epilogue: Just Deserts

James Potter and Sirius Black flanked Minister of Magic Amelia Bones as she dismounted from her broom, shivering. "Wretched place," she said, looking at the walls of Azkaban. "Still, needs must."

Sirius looked as if he agreed fully with the first half of her statement, James thought. This place still brought back bad memories for him. Of course, it brought back bad memories for everyone. Dementors tended to do that.

The Minister walked through the halls of the prison, looking into various cells, observing the prisoners, most of whom seemed unconscious of her presence. This inspection was really only ceremonial, James knew. The real inspections of Azkaban were done monthly by teams of Aurors, who strengthened the anti-Apparition wards on the building and the other magical safeguards around the island.

_But there was a reason Sirius and I pulled strings to come here today. As long as he's still at least partly sane..._

The Minister tapped her wand twice against the window in a cell door, making it significantly larger, though still heavily barred. James could now see the cell's occupant, slumped in a corner with his head on his arms, extremely dirty blond hair cascading down around him. He hadn't even responded to the sounds, and James felt a pang of regret. He had so looked forward to this.

But then the man's head came up, slowly, and James realized he'd just been taking his time, giving himself the illusion of choice in the matter. He marveled that the man still had so much self-control.

"Malfoy," said Bones shortly.

Lucius Malfoy looked slowly from one of them to the others, eyes narrowed in distaste, and did not reply.

"Wolf got your tongue, Lucius?" said Sirius.

Malfoy snorted and looked away.

"We have something for you," said James, taking it out from under his arm. "To help pass the time." He tossed the item into the cell between the bars. Malfoy didn't even flinch as it hit the floor with a papery smack.

"What's it been now, six years?" asked Sirius conversationally. "Just imagine how much faster it would be going if you had something to do. Like patrolling someone's grounds, or raising a child."

Malfoy whirled, his face a mask of anger, then visibly stopped himself from speaking and merely glared.

"It's too bad," said James sympathetically. "I mean, even Sirius managed to have a son. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black continues. But the house of Malfoy..." He sighed dramatically. "So sad."

Bones restored the window to its original size abruptly. "That's enough," she said sharply, then lowered her voice. "It would not do for the Minister of Magic to laugh in front of a common prisoner."

James and Sirius exchanged smirks.

_We made her want to laugh. In a prison full of dementors. Granted, they're all down at the other end at the moment, but still. _

_Are we talented or what?_

* * *

_Squeak-ee, squeak-ee, squeak-ee, squeak-ee..._

"Atta boy, Wormtail," said Sirius without looking up. "Keep it up and you'll get your dinner yet."

The traveling rat was a standing joke at the Ministry. Wormtail's cage spent one week in Sirius' cubicle, one in James', and one in Remus', down in the Department of Mysteries, before returning to Sirius' to start the cycle again. The amount of running he had to do to get his meals was enough to tire him out, but not so much that it was cruel or mean-spirited, Sirius thought. Both Remus and James had checked it and agreed with him.

Everyone else had to work to eat. Why not little Peter?

Besides, it was amusing to listen to.

Sirius signed another parchment and put it in the Out tray, then checked to see that no one was coming. The hallway was clear, his work was done for the moment, and he was going to revive his spirits after Azkaban by recalling all the good things that had happened to him over the past six years.

That, and a nice shot of chocolate.

He unwrapped a Frog and took a bite, leaned back and put his feet up, and looked at the photographs hanging on his cubicle wall. On the far left was one of James and Lily, with a red-haired five-year-old standing next to James – what no one had known, including Lily, was that she had been pregnant the night Voldemort came to their house. Evanie Potter had been born eight and a half months after their restoration, emerging on 15 July of the next year apparently none the worse for her ten-year wait. Harry had been overjoyed to have a real little sister.

_Harry was overjoyed to have parents._ Sirius's eyes moved to the photo of his godson, arm in arm with his girlfriend of ten months, Ginny Weasley. It didn't seem like six years ago that he'd carried Harry into one of the bedrooms of the guest suite, gently awakened him, and asked him a very important question...

* * *

"Harry, have I ever lied to you?"

Harry thought about it. "Yes," he said finally. "Letha says not telling the truth is just as bad as telling a lie. And you don't tell me when you play pranks on me."

Sirius, for one instant, wished his intelligent and all too moral wife to the ends of the earth. "You're right. But I mean directly, aloud, in so many words. Have I ever told you a lie?"

Harry shook his head.

"All right. Then would you believe me if I told you something that sounds completely crazy and impossible?"

"Like what?"

"It's something you'll like," Sirius temporized, seeing the doubt in Harry's eyes behind his glasses, which he'd fallen asleep wearing. "Nothing bad, we're not moving away without you." _Except that we might be..._

Harry frowned. "Maybe," he said cautiously. "What is it?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "Harry, we've all been wrong for a long time. We thought your parents were dead. But they're not. They were... pushed forward in time."

_And what Voldemort meant to happen was for them to arrive in a time when all their friends were dead or enslaved and he controlled most if not all of the world, then to have them watch him kill Harry before he either killed them too or turned them into slaves like Remus and Danger. If that's not a fate worse than death, I don't know what is. _

"Pushed forward in time?" Harry repeated in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means that for them, none of the past ten years ever happened. They went straight from that night when Voldemort came to your house, to now."

Harry fixated on the last word. "Now? Are they here?"

Sirius nodded, feeling oddly sad. He was losing his godson – losing him to his real parents, of course, but still losing him.

_Selfish. You have Meghan. And you'll still see Harry, and he'll still care about you. But you know who he really belongs to, and you always have. _

"Can I see them? Do they want to see me?"

"Want to see you?" Sirius laughed slightly. "Harry, you were the first person they asked about. They want to see you more than anything. Do you want to see them?"

The look on Harry's face told him it had been just as stupid a question as it sounded. Without any more words, since none were really needed, he got up and went to the door, opening it. "Mr. Potter will see you now," he said quietly to the impatient couple waiting in the living room.

Lily nearly bowled him over in her rush to the bed where Harry was sitting cross-legged, with a light of wonder and joy dawning on his face. James paused for a moment to clasp Sirius by the shoulder. "Thanks, Padfoot," was all he said, but the intent was clear.

_Thank you for giving my son a father when I couldn't. _

"Anytime, Prongs." Sirius stepped out of the room and closed the door. "Falling down," he said, suiting action to words into a large easy chair. Remus and Danger had occupied the couch and were entwined in a position that looked vaguely suggestive, but Sirius was too tired to really get a good look at it.

Aletha had the chair that matched his, but it was unsatisfactorily far from him. A quick Summoning Charm fixed that as the chair scooted across the floor and gently bumped into his. "So, what do you think?" he said, invading her armrest shamelessly.

"I think we're going to have a marvelous time." Aletha retaliated by laying her arm across his. "And those kids are going to be just about the happiest in the world."

The other five children in the suite, once they had been sufficiently exclaimed over (Reynard got the most attention, since as far as James and Lily had known he was impossible, but Hermione, whom they had thought was dead, and Meghan, whom Lily claimed she had been expecting for a while, claimed their shares) had been moved to various of the bedrooms, boys to one and girls to another, ignoring the fact that they'd been found draped over each other with no regard to gender or age.

"I think we got a pretty good deal out of this mess," said Danger, her eyes shut.

"And I think everyone needs to sleep," said Remus, drawing his wand and flicking the lights off. "Good night."

* * *

Sirius looked now at the Potters' faces and smiled. James, uneasy with his apparent youth against the age of the people he'd known as his contemporaries, had elected soon after his return to take a small dose of Aging Potion, making himself five or six years older, enough to look more or less like Sirius and Remus. Lily said frankly that if people didn't choose to believe she'd been born thirty-two years ago just because of what she looked like, that was their problem, and refused to alter her appearance in the slightest.

_Of course, she could just be vain about it. _Sirius chuckled.

On the far right, the Lupins waved at him, Danger with one arm around Reynard, Remus holding a sandy-haired girl on his outside hip. Three-year-old Cassie Lupin ensured that life at the London duplex, which the Blacks and the Lupins still shared, was never dull.

Sirius recalled the day she'd been born.

* * *

"Cassiopeia?" said Sirius in surprise. "You're naming her Cassiopeia?"

"Do you have a better idea?" asked Remus with a smile, glancing into the room where Aletha, Lily, Hermione, Meghan, and little Evanie were taking turns cooing over the baby.

"Yes. What about Rose, or Dorcas, or Marlene? You used to say names for children should be like laws. The simpler, the better. And now yours are Reynard and Cassiopeia?"

Remus' eyes acquired a certain look to them, a haunted, secretive look, as if he were afraid someone might be listening. Sirius felt like a prime idiot. It had to be something to do with their time at the Malfoys', that was the only reason Remus ever looked that way, and he'd been an idiot to bring it up...

But all Remus said was, "Narcissa's daughter was Cassiopeia."

"Oh." Sirius couldn't think of anything else to say. "I didn't know."

Remus smiled slightly. "I know you didn't. It's all right. Would you like some help getting your foot out of your mouth now?"

"Yes, I think I'd like that."

"I find firewhiskey is a wonderful lubricant."

Sirius needed no second invitation.

"To Cassiopeia Lupin," he toasted when the drinks were poured.

"To Cassiopeia Rose Lupin," answered Remus, touching glasses with him. "May her life be happier than either of her namesakes'."

* * *

Hermione ought to be in the picture with the Lupins, but she was seldom there these days. Sirius had his suspicions as to where she went – Arthur Weasley, down the hall in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, had been puzzled by the recent disappearances of his youngest son from the family photograph on his desk – but it was none of his business. Nor were the real-life goings on of those two young people, whose attraction to one another had ceased to be secret shortly after Harry and Ginny became a declared couple at Christmas of last year.

Had ceased to be secret to them, that was. It had been obvious to just about everyone else since second year that Ron and Hermione would eventually end up together.

Just as it had been obvious that Reynard would end up with Luna Lovegood. Meghan's offhand comment the day she'd first met Ray had been dead on target; Luna had liked him, and the feeling had been mutual. She didn't mind at all that he turned into a wolf at sunset unless he had taken his potion, and he rather liked hearing about the things she believed in, since his whole life was a story just as unbelievable as anything she could come up with. Add to that their shared interest in music, and a couple was born. They had yet to officially date, but Sirius had money laid on it happening before the end of the year.

And finally, in pride of place in the center, his own family. Aletha, more beautiful than ever, Meghan, blossoming into a lovely young woman, and in her arms the most handsome, cleverest, and finest child the world had ever seen, in Sirius' admittedly biased opinion. Marcus Aurelius Black, age two and a half, was the darling of all three Marauder families, and bid fair to grow up immensely spoiled if they weren't careful.

_And to be an uncle before he's ten. _

In the area of romance, Meghan took after neither of her parents, who had bickered their way into love. Instead, a long-standing friendship was slowly becoming something more. Sirius had noticed the way Neville Longbottom was starting to look at his daughter, and the way she was looking back, always strictly when the other wasn't watching, of course. Sirius felt a bit sorry for Neville, once Meghan made up her mind to act. She might be only fifteen, but she had all the wiles of twice that age. Neville didn't stand a chance.

_It's a real houseful when we all get together, no matter where we are – London or Surrey..._

What had seemed an insoluble problem – Harry didn't want to move to London, while Meghan and the Blacks did – had become simple with the return of the Potters. Aletha had been glad to sell them the house at number seventeen, Privet Drive, and they had moved in around Christmas, after they had fully recovered from the shock of losing ten years off their lives.

Sirius had witnessed the scene, but now he found himself imagining what it would have been like to be one of the primary participants... and not one he would usually have imagined himself as...

* * *

Petunia Dursley rushed outside, stopping only to snatch a sweater of Vernon's from the closet against the chill. Vernon was at work, Dudley was watching television, and the Potter boy, she assumed, was staying at his school for the holiday, even though they hadn't had a letter, since he certainly hadn't returned. And there was a moving truck at number seventeen...

But something was odd. The two men were moving boxes _into_ the house. Surely she hadn't slipped enough to miss the day they'd moved everything _out?_

Mrs. Black stood nearby, watching. Petunia hurried up to her. "Have you had a delivery, Mrs. Black, dear? Something you needed to buy in bulk?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Mrs. Black smiled, shaking her head. "I'm so forgetful sometimes. You're going to have new neighbors, Mrs. Dursley. Meghan and I are moving away. You see, I've gotten married again."

"Oh, congratulations! Who is he?"

"Someone I've known for a long time, a good man. But he wants me to move into his house, in London. And it just so happened that some friends of mine were looking for a house out this way, so I sold it to them." Mrs. Black peered down the street. "They should be along soon. I think you'll like meeting them. They're very nice people."

"Does my nephew know that you're moving?" Petunia threw out the question casually. She and Vernon would have to make plans if the boy could no longer be depended on to be routinely out of the house in the summer. "He's always been so close with you."

"Yes, we told Harry right away. He was a bit disappointed, but he recovered quickly. By the way, might I see his room? He asked me to send him a few things he left behind."

Petunia froze. She'd always, as far as she knew, been able to conceal from the other woman where her nephew slept. "Er, well, I'm afraid it's not very tidy," she said, giving a high-pitched laugh. "You know boys, dreadfully messy. I'd be ashamed to show it to you."

"I'm sure you would." The tone in which this was spoken was unexceptionable, but the look which accompanied it made Petunia feel as if she were being peeled.

Luckily, Mrs. Black's eyes were diverted away a moment later. "Here they come now!" she said happily as a car turned down Privet Drive. "Don't go away, they'll want to see you, I'm sure."

The car pulled up behind the moving van and parked, and the driver and both passengers got out.

Petunia's jaw dropped as her sister Lily ran up to Mrs. Black and embraced her warmly, and her sister's good-for-nothing husband Potter did the same a moment later. Her nephew had run straight to the door of the house, where Meghan Black stood, obviously waiting for him.

_More magic. It must be. A plot, it was all a plot, so they wouldn't be burdened with the wretched boy – it was a trick, to make us pay for him, to put us to all that trouble..._

"Hello, Petunia," said Lily, turning to her. "How nice to see you again."

"Thank you for taking care of Harry for us," added Potter, glancing at the house, where the two children were now opening and closing the door for the moving men. "We're ever so grateful."

"I'm sure it must have been very expensive, ten years worth of keep," said Lily, an edge starting to creep into her tone. "If you and Vernon can just make a rough estimate of what it cost you, we'll pay you back right away."

"It shouldn't be much," said Potter, and his voice was suddenly colder than the winter chill in the air. "You never spent a penny on his clothing. And that blob you call a son can probably eat as much in a day as Harry does in a month."

"A cupboard, Petunia," said Lily, her pain and disappointment clearly visible in her eyes. "Why would you make him sleep in a cupboard? How in the world could it make any difference to give him a bedroom?"

"If matters had been reversed," said Potter, "if we'd been left with your son to raise, I can't say we would have treated them completely equally, but I think I can honestly say we would have tried." His glare was worse than Mrs. Black's. Petunia now felt as though she were being not only peeled, but minced.

Lily sighed deeply. "I'd like nothing better than to mend fences with you, Petunia," she said. "You're my only sister. My only family, now. I know you don't like magic, but it's a fact of life. At least of our lives. The least you could do is try to understand that."

"Now, we're going to be living here probably for quite a while," said Potter. "Harry likes it around here, and it's familiar to him. Not to mention, Lily's pregnant again."

"James!" Lily pushed him. "Whatever happened to that being my secret to tell?"

Potter smirked at her and continued. "However, we're not going to be doing magic in the street. Not only is it a bad idea, it's illegal. We'll be as ordinary as we can manage, and no one has to know you and Lily are related unless you choose to tell them. If you want to ignore us entirely, pretend we don't exist, that's your choice. But people may think it's a little odd of you to be so blatantly hostile to your new neighbors. Just a warning."

Petunia looked at Mrs. Black, who didn't look at all surprised to hear any of this. The suspicion she'd had when her nephew had taken his letter to the Blacks' to open gripped her again. "How long have you known?" she asked.

"Known what? That James and Lily were alive?"

"Yes, that, but also about... them." Petunia's hands described a larger circle than just the Potters. "All of them."

"You mean witches and wizards? Magic?"

Petunia nodded jerkily.

Mrs. Black laughed. "I _am_ a witch, Petunia," she said. "I was a friend of Lily's at school. I'm afraid what you and Vernon tried to do to Harry just wasn't going to take. Not when he could come to our house and hear the truth any time he pleased. You're really just swapping one set of magical neighbors for another."

Petunia backed away, pointing her finger at the woman. "Vernon always knew," she said shrilly. "He always knew there was something not right about you. I knew it too. Freaks, all of you, you're freaks! Unnatural, abnormal _freaks!_"

She turned and ran back to her house, willing herself not to hear the merry laughter behind her.

* * *

One of the moving men handed his box to Harry and collected a kiss from Meghan. "Do you think she'll still invite you to dinner?" he asked.

"I doubt it, Padfoot," said James, still looking after Petunia.

The other man shifted his grip on his crate and shook his head, sandy hair showing under his cap. "I'm sorry for her. She just can't see that the world beyond her own little narrow box might be a more interesting place."

"Speaking of boxes, let me help with those, Moony," said James, taking the box from him. "It's my stuff, I shouldn't let you two do all the work."

* * *

_And Danger was inside, supervising the children unpacking and making lunch at the same time... _

_Merlin, that was a happy Christmas..._

Sirius was called back to the present by a sound. Or rather, the lack of one.

The constant _squeak-ee, squeak-ee_ of Wormtail running in his wheel had ceased. The rat was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the small private corner of the cage, sulking.

Sirius got up and walked over to the shelf. Sure enough, the tip of a tail was just visible outside the walled-off portion.

"You know," he said conversationally, "it wouldn't be all that hard to get you declared alive again. Give you a trial and all that. If you'd really prefer Azkaban to a nice clean cage..."

_Squeak-ee, squeak-ee, squeak-ee, squeak-ee..._

Sirius chuckled. "Didn't think so."

_I wonder how Lucius is doing?_

* * *

They were gone. No one was left to see him. He could safely look at what Potter had thrown at him.

It was a thin paperback book, entitled _Thought Is Free_, and authored by Gertrude Granger-Lupin. A book, he saw as he opened it, of poems.

A note was tucked inside the front cover.

_See page 38._

Almost unwillingly, Lucius turned to the stated page, which, according to the table of contents, contained a poem entitled _Mulier Muta_. His mind translated it with little trouble.

_Silent Woman._

There was a note at the top of the page.

_This is the only poem in the collection not authored by me. It was sent to me anonymously by owl, with the expressed wish that I use it as I desired, as inspiration or as papier-mâché. I desire to have it printed exactly as it arrived. It has an unusual take on some of a woman's most common roles in the magical world. _

Lucius almost wanted to close the book there, but his suspicion that he knew the identity of that anonymous author drew him to read on.

_All that is desired of me, I am.  
I was the perfect daughter in my youth.  
My sisters' reprimands were earned;  
I sewed and read, and carefully learned  
How easily to twist and bend the truth. _

_All that is desired of me, I am.  
A wife to put all other wives to shame;  
I vowed that I would make it so,  
And thus my own ambitions go,  
Becoming fuel for my husband's flame. _

_All that is desired of me, I am.  
A mother as my mother was before;  
My child was no more to me  
Than any fine accessory,  
And it was right that he be nothing more. _

_All that is desired of me, I am.  
My parents sold me on my wedding day.  
My husband was polite but cold,  
And ere our wedding vows were old,  
His eyes had turned another woman's way. _

_I desire nothing that I am.  
My guardian beast was happier than I,  
For she could laugh and love without  
The fear her husband cast her out  
And brand her as unworthy till she die. _

_I desire nothing that I am.  
I know not how to love nor how to live.  
My husband loved himself so well  
That even childhood-learned spell  
Could never yield him love to me to give. _

_I desire nothing that I am.  
The child I loved was only mine in name.  
My daughter never lived to see  
The light of day nor leaf of tree;  
My son was subject to a prior claim. _

_I desire nothing that I am.  
I speak but once. Now silent shall I be  
Until my weary days are through;  
Then shall I hope that something new  
Awaits, when death shall finally set me free. _

A wave of chill washed over Lucius before he could even put the book down, and the cell seemed to darken.

"_DAD!"_ screamed a boy's anguished voice. _"NO!"_

_And he was not speaking to me. His only concern for my life was that it not be on his father's hands. Or paws. _

Another voice, a man's, reasonable and polite. _"I'm not about to kill him, Ray..."_

_And if I had ever known that they could speak, I would have taken even more precautions than I did. _

Narcissa's voice now. She must have written that poem, it was obviously about their situation.

"_I did not bear you a son that night. I bore you a daughter. A stillborn daughter."_

His own voice, pleading in a way that wrung him to hear, which was of course why he had to hear it over and over under the influence of the dementors.

"_Draco..."_

And the boy's voice again, full of eleven-year-old scorn and contempt.

"_That's not my name. My name is Reynard Lupin."_

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Reynard Lupin raised his goblet. "To a happy Halloween," he toasted.

"To a happy Halloween," answered his seven best friends, touching their goblets to his.

"Just think," said Hermione with a little sniffle, "this is our last Halloween feast ever."

"Speak for yourself," said Meghan, stealing a chip off Ron's plate when he wasn't looking.

"What I remember is that it's six years tonight," said Harry, looking with a smile towards the staff table, where a red-haired woman in blue robes was chatting with Professor McGonagall. "Six years since I got them back."

Severus Snape had quit his job as Potions Master as of Christmas of the year Harry had defeated Voldemort, and Dumbledore had hired Lily Potter for the position. She'd been teaching ever since, and was noted both for her excellence as a teacher and her careful fairness towards the four Houses.

"Remember that story?" said Ginny, grinning. "About what happened the day after?"

Neville nodded. "How your mum went down to the dungeons, Harry, to have a look around..."

Ron snickered. "And Snape walked in on her in his classroom, and asked who she was, and when she turned around..."

"He fainted," Harry finished, grinning. "Severus bloody Snape passed out."

"Is 'bloody' his middle name, then?" asked Luna.

Everyone cracked up.

Reynard looked up at the staff table, caught Professor Dumbledore's eye, and lifted his goblet. The Headmaster returned the gesture, winking at him.

_He's right. It doesn't get any better than this. _

* * *

Aletha was on duty that night, working with her colleagues to save the life of a badly hurt child, her past qualms about Healing utterly forgotten in the thrill of being able to tell the boy's parents he would be all right.

When she got off duty, she knew, her friends and family would be waiting for her, and so would her dinner.

Though she knew which she was looking forward to seeing more.

* * *

Danger set the dishes to doing themselves and went back to the music room. Remus was about to play his violin, and she didn't want to miss it.

"Make it wail like a banshee, Uncle Moony!" begged Evanie, bouncing on the couch.

"No, Daddy, don't!" protested Cassie.

"No noisy!" was Marcus' contribution.

"You should talk," said Sirius, scooping his son up and tossing him into the air, making him squeal. "You're the noisiest thing I know."

"Hey, what about me?" James looked offended.

"Sorry, Prongs, this little Marauder even beats you."

"Nobody beats my daddy!" Evanie leapt off the couch and charged at Sirius. "Take that! And that!"

**Do you want to get started?** Danger asked Remus, who was watching the fracas.

**As amusing as this is, yes, I think I do.**

Danger accordingly removed Evanie from Sirius' legs and deposited her in James' lap, steered Sirius and Marcus to the couch, and sat down beside them. Cassie immediately cuddled up to her. "Let's all be quiet now," she said, "and listen to some nice music."

"Nice being a relative term," muttered James, earning himself a slightly scorched left eyebrow before Remus set the violin and began to play.

* * *

Later that night, when Aletha had come home, Lily had arrived from Hogwarts, and the children had gone to bed, a piano and violin duet might have been heard coming from the music room. The music spoke of a day to come, a day of peace, of pride, of justice, a day when all people could live in freedom and equality.

There was no question in any of their minds that, for themselves, they had reached that day.

* * *

(A/N: And thus the story ends... sniffle. It would have been so much better if I could have put the song lyrics! Wah! And yes, I do know that "Ragtime" didn't come out until after the period this story is set in. Give me a little artistic freedom? Please?

So. Started out angsty, but didn't stay that way too terribly long, did it? Kind of like one of Shakespeare's later plays. Romances, they're called, and most of them are terrible for Shakespeare. Of course, that's like saying "Gee, this book is awful for J. K. Rowling." Oh wait... I think I already said that.

And no, just for the record, HBP is not awful. Just not quite everything I was hoping for. (Of course, nothing could be.) Please remember to review! And LwoD soon, I promise!)


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